


Pink Floyd Slash

by lovingthealien



Category: Rocknroll - Fandom, davidgilmour, nickmason, pinkfloyd - Fandom, richardwright, rick/nick, rickwright, rogerwaters - Fandom, sydbarrett - Fandom, sydger, watermour, wrighters, wrightmour
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Music, Rockstars, Smut, pink floyd - Freeform, rocknroll, ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingthealien/pseuds/lovingthealien
Summary: Short fanfictions between the Pink Floyd members.Each chapter is a different fic.Please be aware: there is smut, strong language, mental illness, and (based off of time period) homophobia.





	1. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: Mental Illness, sad, fluffy, no smut

The year was 1968. It was the middle of summer in England, although that didn’t necessarily mean it was warm. On this particular day, Roger Waters, bassist of a new and rising band called Pink Floyd, sat in his apartment’s living room admiring the rain outside. One would think that after having lived his whole life in England, he would grow tired of the rain. But it continued to endlessly soothe him, and he was grateful it was not hot outside as it had been the day before.  
Roger’s band had begun to grow in popularity, having recently released their second album, A Saucerful of Secrets. Most musicians would be rejoicing at this time, given the positive feedback the band was receiving. But Roger was not in a celebratory mood. More so than his other two bandmates, he was worried about a recent problem. This problem was Syd Barrett, their band’s frontman.  
Something had gone terribly wrong with him, yet nobody understood what. A few months, during a concert to promote their new album, Syd had stopped playing in the middle of the song, and this had caused a great disruption, given that he was the lead singer and guitarist.  
During their recording sessions towards the end of the album, Syd had seemed to lose interest in what was happening. Where once was a pair of beautiful and happy eyes remained two dark voids which seemed to suck the emotion out of the room rather than radiate it.  
After making himself a cup of tea, Roger returned to his arm chair by the window, picking up a large pile of mail which had accumulated on a nearby table. He gently tore open the first letter, presumably a rental billing statement, which made him sigh. Perhaps for the first time in a while, Roger was seriously worried about his financial stability. If Syd didn’t start cooperating, and this somehow lead to the band breaking up, Roger would have to look for a normal job. Such a mundane life scared him deeply and he stared at the letter for a few moments before shaking the thoughts from his head.  
Before he could read the fine print on the envelope, a knock echoed throughout the room, breaking the steady sound of rain outside. Given that it was only 8 in the morning, the knock was unusual, and Roger froze in his seat for a short moment before getting up. He was halfway across the room when he paused. He really couldn’t imagine who was at his door, but then the thought hit him. What if it’s Syd? Some dark part of him really hoped it wasn’t. Talking to Syd these past few months was painful, much like trying to pull teeth. Sometimes it would take him five minutes before he could answer a question. But then again, what if he’s here to explain? What if there’s hope?  
Sure enough, when Roger opened the door, he was greeted by a slightly shorter man with long black strands covering his eye like some exotic dog breed. Syd’s eyes were directly focused on Roger’s, something which didn’t happen often recently. “Hello,” he started. “It’s me, Syd.” “Yes, of course, Syd. What, did you think I forgot you?” said Roger, who wanted to find the situation funny but was actually terrified at what he had just said. What does that mean? Does Syd even remember me?  
“Roger, can I come in? It’s dark,” said Syd, his gaze turning towards the inside of Roger’s apartment. It was in fact, not dark outside, so the statement confused Roger, but at the same time, it was just the same old Syd, speaking gibberish.  
Roger did not hesitate to let his old friend inside. “Yes, of course, please come in. Don’t mind the mess,” he said, then realizing that Syd was perhaps one of the messiest people he knew and certainly would pay no attention to the mess. “Do you have any cigarettes?” asked Syd after sitting down on a couch in the middle of the room. “Yes, hold on,” said Roger, reaching for his pocket and taking out two, lighting them, and handing one to Syd before taking one for himself. Syd looked around the room, then down onto his shoes. Roger worried he was entering one of his moments where he didn’t talk for several minutes on end. Roger couldn’t help but feel a tear forming in his eye as he began to remember how energetic Syd once was, and how sitting motionless was once a nightmare for Syd. Now it seemed to be the only thing he did.  
“Sorry, that’s what I needed to say,” said Syd suddenly, snapping out of his daze and simultaneously snapping Roger out of his. “I’m sorry I can’t play music anymore for the band. And I’m sorry I don’t - can’t talk very much.” This statement cut Roger like a knife. It was the first time Syd had admitted his behavior in any way, and it shocked him, but also made him feel a level of guilt. He still remembered earlier that year, when on the way to a gig, he advised his bandmates to just leave Syd at home rather than pick him up, symbolizing the end of Syd’s career in the Floyd.  
“I’ve seen a doctor, but he said said I’m incurable,” he continued. “I don’t know what that means for me. The sun is too dark today.” Roger didn’t know what to say to his bandmate, who was making somewhat more coherent sentences than months prior. At this moment, Roger noticed that Syd’s hair had grown significantly since the last time he had seen him. The long black curls had partly covered his large, brown eyes, but Roger was keen to notice the dark circles around them. He even had a bit of stubble growing around his face, which was once perfectly shaven. His cheekbones were more hollowed out than before.  
While it was surprising to Roger that Syd had come to visit him, he was still evident to him that the former Floyd frontman was not actually any better. It became even more evident when Syd leaned back into the couch with a blank stare in his face, entering a catatonic state. His cigarette continued to burn and the flame was ever so slowly making it's way towards his fingers. "Syd?” asked Roger, after a minute, shaking Syd’s leg. “Syd!” He came back to reality. “I’m - I’m sorry. Roger-” he said looking his concerned bandmate into the eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m here. Did I take a cab?” he asked, scratching his head. “I can’t answer that, Syd,” said Roger, the tears now forming more intensely around his eyes. Syd noticed this. “Roger? Why are you crying?” he asks blatantly. At that moment, Roger was overwhelmed with sorrow and guilt, and a hint of anger. Why do you think I’m crying!  
“You’re not well, Syd,” started Roger, taking a deep inhale. “I- I don’t know what to advise you to do. I miss you.” He said, his voice breaking at the last words. Roger then put his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Syd looked sympathetically in Roger’s eyes. “Please don’t cry. I know I’m not well. But there’s something else, Roger,” said Syd, now putting out his cigarette. “This is why I came here,” he said, slightly quieter so perhaps Roger did not hear. “I- I love you” said Syd, his voice cracking at the last word. Roger was confused. “Yes, I love you too, man” said Roger in return. “No- you don’t understand. I truly love you,” replied Syd, leaning in towards Roger's ear. “I love you like a dark sky loves the stars,” he whispered. What he just said didn’t really make sense, but it didn’t bother Roger. He understood. It was something he perhaps did not want to admit to himself. The reason why Syd’s breakdown hurt Roger more than anyone else was the simple fact that he loved him. From the first day, when they had met, Roger realized this. But it wasn’t right, and it didn’t make sense to Roger. He had only ever had girlfriends before, but nothing he ever felt for them compared to the burning feeling he had around Syd. Of course, he had never told anyone, and Syd’s recent spiral hurt Roger but also made it easier to be distracted from him. To hear Syd say those words, even through his mental haze, burned deeper than Roger could ever put into words. The bassist felt an overwhelming mixture of pain, confusion, guilt and joy. Every feeling seemed to come down on him at once. Syd leaned back from Roger’s ear. “It’s true,” he continued, his eyes beginning to water. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I told you,” he said, evidently becoming nervous. “I have to go. I have a cat I must find,” he said, getting up. He turned to look Roger in the eyes. “Goodbye, Roger. I won’t ever bother you again.” Before he could leave, Roger reached out for his hand. “No, wait,” he started, feeling the man’s gentle hand shaking. “Syd, I- love you too,” he said, unsure if he regretted admitting it or not. Syd shook his hand free. “No, Roger. I’m not well. This was a mistake. You know I can’t be around you or anyone else. It’s not good for my head,” he said, beginning to walk towards the door at a quick pace. Roger darted over to block Syd from leaving. “Syd, wait.” he protested. “Please get out of my way,” replied Syd, trying to hide his tears with his hair. “Syd, please,” continued Roger. “We can... figure this out. If we just walk away from these problems then we will never solve them. You know that.” he said. Syd looked up to Roger, then began to space out again. “Where am I?” he asked after fading back into reality.  
Without hesitation, Roger pulled Syd into a kiss, grabbing a hold of Syd’s collared paisley shirt. Syd did not protest at all, rather, he kissed back. “Roger-” started Syd. “What does this mean?” he asked, after Roger let him go. “I don’t know,” he answered, now looking away from Syd. His eyes were something that Roger both hated and loved at the same time. They were big, curious and beautiful eyes, but a reminder of the haunted and empty look they get made them easily unsettling. The two men stood there for a moment before Roger started,“You know, Syd, I’ve always felt this way about you. From the moment when I first saw you. I didn’t think it was possible,” he began to whisper, “I didn’t think I was a homosexual.” “Me neither,” replied Syd. “And I was positive that you did not feel this way about me in return. So I guess anything is possible,” he said, cracking a smile for the first time in maybe six months.  
The two of them made their way back over to the couch. “But, Roger- I’m still not well,” said Syd, after sitting down. “Calm down. It’s okay, we will find a solution. We can find a doctor who will actually help you,” said Roger, putting his hand on Syd’s thigh. “Syd, together, we can do this,” he said. After finishing his sentence, he leaned in his forehead to touch Syd’s. This moment of intimacy was one he could have only dreamed of years before. A feeling of uncertainty was in the air. Roger couldn’t be sure that Syd could get better, or that his feelings for Syd were alright in the first place. But he knew one thing, and it was that he loved that crazy diamond. Syd Barrett, I love you no matter what.


	2. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Strong Language, Smut

For Brittney, as requested -

1967  
It was a brightly lit afternoon at Abbey Road Studios, where a newly emerging band called the Pink Floyd had just begun recording their first album. The eccentric group sat in Studio Three, cranking out all sorts of crazy chord progressions while the day flew by. The leader of the group, a curly haired boy by the name of Syd, was pressing various notes on a keyboard, trying to create a cool intro sound to one of the tracks. Meanwhile, Roger, the bassist, was reading some of Syd’s lyrics. “What’s this about a mouse?” he asked, referring to the lyrics from Bike. “Syd, what in the hell does any of this mean?” he asked, chuckling softly. “Oh, give me that!” said Syd, pulling the paper clean from Roger’s hand. “It’s psychedelic music, it doesn’t mean anything!” he said, defending himself. Rick, the keyboardist, took the paper from Syd’s flailing hands and read over it. “No, wait. This is fantastic, actually. Very creative.” he concluded. “Yes, thank you,” said Syd, giving Roger a dirty look. “Well you can sing about riding bikes all you want, but somebody is going to take that the wrong way,” he said, giving Syd a stern eye. The four men when quiet for a second, and then, having finally processed what Roger meant, all began laughing. “Whatever,” said Syd after his bandmates quieted down.  
They continued recording various samples for the next several hours, until Nick chimed in. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for a break,” said the drummer, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m exhausted,” said Roger, relieving the weight from his shoulders by taking his bass guitar off. “You guys want to come to mine for a bit? I may or may not have gotten some reefer earlier this morning,” asked Syd, cracking a mischievous grin. “Oh hell yes!” said Rick instantly. “Yeah, I’m in,” replied Roger, while Nick nodded his approval from behind the drum set.  
Syd’s flat was peculiar in the sense that it was really all just one large room. In the corner of the multi-colored room sat a twin sized mattress, where he slept every night. A box of cat litter was right beside the door, making for a foul- smelling entrance. “Oh shit, I’ve got to change that soon,” mumbled Syd to himself as he guided his guests to his room. The room had no furniture for the guests, so Syd grabbed a couple of pillows from his bed to make sitting on the floor more comfortable for his friends. He retreated to another corner, where a large pile of books and dresser stood. After fumbling around for a bit, he came back holding a lighter, some papers, and about 8 grams of the promised greens. Rick was quick to take ahold of the items, beginning to wrap a joint with such precision that not a single bud fell to the floor. He lit it, took a long inhale, and handed it to Nick. The four of them had gathered into a circle, with the baggie in the middle, creating a scene that could be compared to some sort of seance.  
Three hours had passed, and the men had finally sat up after lying on the floor. “Holy shit, I could’ve sworn your cat was walking on the ceiling,” said Nick. “Yeah, man, this shit is crazy!” said Roger, rubbing his eyes. They sat there for a moment, each quietly recounting what they had just experienced from their high. “Alright man, thanks so much, I’ve got to head out,” said Nick, standing up. “Yeah me too,” said Rick, starting to follow Nick. They made their way to Syd’s door, only this time, they were not startled by the smell of the cat litter as a different smell had masked over it. “See you tomorrow!” said Nick, as he closed the door behind himself and Rick.  
“Holy shit, Syd. Where’d you get this from?” asked Roger, turning his gaze from the door to his bandmate. “My neighbor knows a guy who knows a guy,” he replied, smiling. “Oh wow, really specific,’ said Roger, giggling. Sam, Syd’s Siamese cat, walked over to his owner and sat in his lap, purring gently. “I wonder if cats can get a contact high,” said Roger, leaning over to pet Sam. “I don’t know. I do give him catnip sometimes while I’m smoking though,” he said, lifting the cat up to his face. “The two of us burn one together, don’t we?” he said, rubbing his nose against the feline’s face. Roger couldn’t help but think of how adorable that was. He shook his head, trying to clear the strange thoughts he just had in regards to his friend.  
It was now 1 in the morning. “God it’s late,” started Roger, just now realizing that he had spent another two hours over at Syd’s. It seemed he still didn’t really have a sense of time, perhaps because he was still a little high. He wondered if the other two were sober before leaving. “Yeah. If you want you can stay overnight. You’ll have to sleep on the floor, though,” said Syd with a warm smile. “I don’t mind,” said Roger. “That’s very kind of you, thanks,” he continued. Roger got up to use the bathroom while Syd gathered up all the blankets in his flat and tried to create something like a bed near his own mattress.  
Roger came back from the bathroom, took off his trousers, and made himself comfortable in the soft pile of cotton. He could still feel the hardwood floor through the layers of blanket, but it didn’t bother him much. At this point, Syd was already snuggled into his bed, covering himself with a blanket, and faced away from Roger. Roger noticed he hadn’t changed his clothes, and even still had his shoes on. “Could you turn off the light?” asked Syd, rolling to the side where Roger was. “I just- ugh, fine,” said Roger, getting up. Sam came over to lie at the end of Syd’s mattress. “Syd, you still have your shoes on, dumbass,” said Roger, before turning off the light. “Don’t you want to change?” “Yeah, sure, right,” he mumbled, getting up. He stripped down into his underwear, carelessly throwing his clothes onto the ground, and wrapped himself back into his blanket. Roger was unsure if this was Syd’s normal night time ritual or if it was a result of the powerful weed they smoked before. He also couldn't help but admire the man's physique - one that was of a fit type but not necessarily muscular. He dismissed his thinking, realizing that he himself was very tired. He turned off the light and once again got into the blanket mess on the floor. “Goodnight,” said Syd. “Goodnight,” replied Roger.  
A few moments of silence passed before Roger heard Syd move around. Then again and again, he heard his bandmate tossing and turning, the disturbance loud enough to keep Roger awake. “Syd, are you alright?” he asked, having heard an annoyed sigh from his friend. “Yeah, I’m just thinking,” he said. “About what?” asked Roger, wondering if his friend was still high several hours later. “I don’t know. Sometimes I just question everything,” started Syd. “I mean, am I even a good guitarist? It seems like the four of us are really onto something, but what if I’m the weakest in the group?” he said. Roger, unexpected of his friend’s qualms, sat silent for a moment. “Syd, what are you talking about?” he then replied. “You’re probably the most talented in our group. You know I was just kidding about those lyrics earlier, right?” “Yeah, I know,” replied Syd. “But I also don’t know. Some part of me thinks they are garbage. And our sound will never be remembered in decades to come.” Roger was unsure of what to say. “Why are you worrying about this stuff?” he asked. “I mean, it’s just fun, Syd. It’s 2 in the morning, why are you questioning our legacy?” “You’re right, you’re right. I just doubt myself and worry about the future so much. It’s a paradox, right now we are young and full of life but so insecure about our futures. Yet then when we’re old and secure, we’ll have no life in us. It’s as if you can’t win,” said Syd. Roger’s head was spinning at the stuff his friend was saying. He always knew Syd was a thinker, but this sudden spout of philosophy was a side of Syd he had not yet heard of. “Syd, calm down. You’ll feel better in the morning,” he said, trying to ease Syd’s worries. Roger sat up to look Syd in the face. A beam from that night’s full moon illuminated his face, making the details of his nose and cheek bones sharper and more defined. Was Roger crazy or was Syd a very attractive man? Roger took a deep breath and made eye contact with Syd. “Your music is fantastic, alright? And I’m not just saying that to be nice. You have a gift, Syd. And you’re beautiful. You have everything you need to be remembered for centuries,” said Roger. The same beam of moonlight lit Roger’s face so that Syd could notice his eyes, which he had always seen as blue, but could now see as a combination of blue, green, and maybe even a shade of gray. Roger’s long nose could be deemed unattractive to many girls, but at that moment, Syd found it unusually interesting. Like a work of abstract art that was simultaneously beautiful. “For centuries?” he asked, at a whisper. He didn’t even notice he was moving his face closer to Roger’s. And Roger was doing the same in return. “Syd, you’re gorgeous,” said Roger, now comfortably admitting this as he realized his bandmate was returning the feeling of attraction. “Roger, are you- flirting?” asked Syd, even though he knew the answer. One look into Roger’s eyes and Syd had confirmation. “Can I kiss you?” he then asked, leaning his hand out to hold the side of Roger’s face. “Yes,” said Roger, in a hushed whisper as their lips met. The kiss was passionate and long, gentle at first but then turning aggressive as Syd moved off his mattress to eventually lay on top of Roger. Roger embraced Syd, holding the smaller man in between his legs. Both of Syd’s hands cradled Roger’s face as he continued to kiss him. “Is this okay?” he asked, taking a breath. “I can’t believe this is happening,” said Roger. Then, answering Syd’s question, “Yes, this is perfect.”  
They kissed again and this time, Syd began moving his mouth downward towards an opening at the top of Roger’s shirt, kissing every inch along the way. He heard a silent moan from Roger’s lips, which he took as an allowance to start undoing the buttons on the paisley top. The moonlight was still in a position that illuminated the two of them in the room. Having removed the shirt, Syd continued his downward kisses, eventually reaching Roger’s stomach, and then he leaned back towards Roger’s ears. “Fuck me,” he whispered. “Please.” Roger couldn’t believe what he just heard. This was his first experience with another man, and that thought just hadn’t really occurred to him until Syd said that. But he wanted it so bad. He felt as if he was under a spell near Syd. Roger became more aroused when he began to feel Syd’s penis harden on the area below his stomach, where Syd’s pelvis was rested. Roger put his hands on the small of Syd’s back, lifting himself and Syd to sit up. He went in for another kiss as his hands reached towards Syd’s area, which was still covered by underwear. “Alright, then, take these off,” said Roger, tugging at the elastic. Syd stood up and quickly removed them as instructed. He lied back into the blankets as Roger stood up, removing his own clothing. Then Roger climbed over Syd, positioning himself in between Syd’s legs. He kissed Syd’s chest and stomach slowly, Syd softly reacting to each touch as his hands buried into Roger’s hair. Roger than moved further south and mouthed Syd’s fully erect cock. “Oh, God,” replied Syd, squirming slightly as a result of the pleasure. After a minute, Roger returned to eye level with Syd, kissing him as Syd felt him go in. Syd replied with a sound of pain, but after a few moments, adjusted to the alien feeling and began to once again feel pleasure. “Is it alright?” asked Roger, in between breathes. “Yes, keep going,” said Syd, with seductive eyes. As his movements became more rapid, Roger rested his head to the side of Syd’s, his face buried into the blankets. Syd could feel Roger’s hair on his right cheek. Roger began to moan repeatedly and Syd returned the sound, each of them moving more and more rapidly. As Roger reached his climax, Syd felt a warmth in his lower half. Seconds later, he felt himself orgasm, embracing the extreme pleasure as a wet feeling covered his stomach. Roger lifted his head and kissing Syd, raised himself with one hand while another held Syd’s face. “You really are gorgeous,” said Roger, causing Syd to chuckle and blush. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” said Syd. Roger moved off of Syd and lay by his side. Syd moved his head to rest on Roger’s shoulder, bringing a blanket to cover them both as they snuggled closer together. “I love you, Roger,” said Syd in a sleepy voice. Roger moved his hand to caress Syd’s hair, gently running his hands through the tangled and somewhat sweaty mess. “I love you too, Syd,” he replied as he felt the heaviness of sleep set in.


	3. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pink Floyd in 1970 during the Atom Heart Mother tour in the Netherlands. David Gilmour and Roger Waters.  
> Warnings: Strong Language, Smut

For Everythingisgreenandsubmarine (cool name, by the way) –  
Also I wrote this on a train and when I stood up a lady next to me gave me a weird look so I’m really hoping she didn’t see this and I’m just paranoid.  
It was June 28th 1970, and the members of Pink Floyd were just leaving the stage after having performed Biding My Time at the Kraligen Music Festival. They were in the Netherlands, and had decided to stay there for some time to explore the country, given that there next concert wouldn’t be for another two weeks. “That was good, that there at the end,” said Roger to David, referring to his guitar fill at the end of the song, which he had added spontaneously. “Thanks, it kind of just came to me in the moment,” he replied, smiling at Roger. Rick and Nick began walking behind them as the four of them started making there was to a taxi which was sent to pick them up. “Do you smell all that?” said Rick from behind them, referring to the strong smell of marijuana which was present all throughout a 5 mile radius of the concert hall. “Isn’t that illegal?” asked Roger, taking in the smell as he walked. “Actually, I read about this, it turns out that this festival marks the Dutch tolerance for marijuana,” he said. “Looks like we are a part of history, boys!” The four of them laughed as they approached a taxi outside the concert hall. David looked through the open left-side window. “Taxi for Pink Floyd?” asked the driver, in a heavy accent. He was smiling as he made eye contact with all four of them. “Yes,” answered David, even though it seemed as though the cabbie knew it was them. David sat in the passenger while the other three filed into the back. The small European car had three seats in the back, but the three grown men found it was rather tight. “Can you sign? Son is a fan,” asked the driver, taking out a copy of Atom Heart Mother on vinyl and giving them a marker. “Of course,” said David. The record was passed along in the car and made it back to the driver, who then started the car.  
The car ride was only a couple minutes, since the hotel was close. They approached the building, which had a large, blue sign reading Novotel in the front of it. A bellboy was waiting at the front, where they just got out of the taxi. “I will show you to your rooms,” he said. “Ooo, fancy,” said Nick, giggling. The band were just starting to get use to the special treatment that came with being famous, and there was no doubt that they were enjoying it. Their rooms were all next to each other, and each of them were very spacious. There were large bathtubs that had jets to simulate a hot tub. It seemed their manager had picked one of the higher end hotels, making for a comfortable stay. “Meet you all at 9 for breakfast,” said David, when the four of them had finished unloading their luggage into their rooms. The other three nodded and went into their rooms. They weren’t planning on staying out that night, since it was already 11 and they were all exhausted.  
Roger entered his room and immediately fell onto the bed. He was tired, but still wanted to shower since he felt dirty and sweaty from being on stage. He reluctantly forced himself off his bed and took a soothing 15 minute shower. Then, he stood in front of the mirror, after brushing his teeth, looking his reflection in the eyes. There was something on his mind that had been haunting him for the past couple of months. It was something he was afraid to admit to anyone, even himself. But the more he tried to ignore it, the more it seemed to intensify in his thoughts. He turned off the lights in the bathroom and got to bed, where he watched television for another hour before he could fall asleep.  
The next morning, the four of them met up at breakfast as planned. They sat at a table for four, a square shape with Roger facing David and Nick facing Rick. It was one of those buffet-type breakfasts, so after settling and asking for a coffee, they each got up to pick their own preferred breakfasts from the nearby tables. David sat down first, digging into his scrambled eggs rather than waiting for the others to come back. A woman came back with the coffee that they requested, pouring the dark liquid into four mugs around the table. “Thanks,” mumbled David through his full mouth. Soon the other three returned, also eagerly starting to eat. “So, that was pretty cool last night, huh?” said Rick. “I wonder why we were last on the setlist though,” started Nick. “Just had to put us at the end cause they didn’t really want us there,” he giggled. “No, no, you’ve got to think positive,” said David. “Save the best for last.” Nick and Rick laughed. “Yeah, the best for last on a Sunday night,” said Nick in reply. “I don’t think it really matters. I think Saturday and Sunday had the same attendance,” said Rick, trying to be positive like David. While they were talking, David repeatedly noticed Roger looking away from him every time David tried to make eye contact. He tried to think why Roger would be mad at him, but then dismissed the thought as him being paranoid. “How is that toast?” Rick asked Roger, perhaps also noticing his disconnection from the group. “Yeah, great,” he said, picking up the coffee and stirring the mug in his hand to mix the milk. Roger failed to make any kind of eye contact with his friends for the rest of the meal. Most of all, he was trying to avoid David’s eyes. David’s beautiful eyes and the short stubble around his sharp chin and his long, messy yet admirable head of hair, and everything about him. To the other members, Roger’s behavior might’ve seemed unusual, although he wasn’t much of a talker to begin with. He also wasn’t much of a morning person, so they dismissed it. Except David, who decided to knock on his room’s door after Rick and Nick were inside their own. “David?” said Roger, opening the door and looking his bandmate in the eyes. Those stupid eyes, why did they have to be so magnetic? “Hey, Rog, just wanted to check if you were alright?” said David. “You just seemed kind of tired at breakfast.” “Yeah, I’m fine, just a small headache is all,” he lied. “Alright, then. See you downstairs at 11?” “Yes, I’ll be there,” The band had planned a small sightseeing tour for the day, hoping to explore more of Rotterdam. David cracked a warm smile as he closed the door and walked away. Roger decided to lie down on his bed, where he picked up a Playboy magazine he had stashed in the hotel’s night stand. He desperately tried to distract himself with all the pictures of women, although over and over he found himself thinking about David. “God damn it!” he yelled, losing his temper and throwing the magazine towards the end of the bed. He hated himself for thinking about David endlessly. Roger made his way to the bathroom, once again looking at his face in the mirror. “Women,” he started. “You like women. Breasts. The curve of their waist.” ‘The curve of David’s lower back,’ is what he was thinking, however. Once again he found his thoughts drifting. He washed his face and having realized it was already 10:50, began making his way to the lobby where they were meeting their tour guide.  
Downstairs, David and Rick were waiting. Roger arrived, cracking a smile in an attempt to reassure his friends that he was alright despite his behavior in the morning. They nodded at each other, then David blurted out, “Where in the hell is Nick?” It was only 11:02 at this point, although they wanted to be punctual for their tour. Nick appeared in the hallway, making his way towards the band while simultaneously trying to put his room key in his pocket. He paused as he reached the group, finally fitting his key, and then said, “Alright guys let’s go. I think he’s outside,” in reference to their tour guide. Indeed, the man standing right outside the hotel lobby was their guide, a man by the name of Alexander. After everyone introduced themselves, he invited them into his car, a Mercedes W114. “Oh wow, that’s a nice car,” said Nick, walking to the front. “Yeah, Mercedes, very nice,” he said, talking to the guide. Alexander’s accent was present, but his English vocabulary was exceptionally good. “Thank you, just bought it recently. Although we’ll only be in the car for a few minutes until we get to the city,” he continued, looking around at the members with a reassuring look.  
It took no time to reach Rotterdam’s center. It took Alexander only a few minutes to find a parking, and soon all of them were out of the car, following their guide as he began to explain something about an upcoming architecture project called the Cube Houses. Overall, the city did not look much unlike England, although there were small differences that made it exciting. They stopped in front of a store, where Alexander began to explain something. David, however, was not looking as he was distracted by something across the road. “Hey, could we go to that guitar shop?” he asked, unaware that his feet were already making their way onto the road. His eyes were glued to an all black Stratocaster in the shop’s window. He was completely unaware of the small red car swiftly making it’s way down the road. Roger’s eyes widened as he realized the situation, almost immediately jumping into the street and giving David’s shirt a hard tug from the back. “David!” he shouted, pulling him so hard back that they fell over. The car slowed down but then speeded away as a woman in the passenger seat gave them a dirty look. Nick gave her the middle finger, while Roger struggled under the weight of David, who had managed to collapse on top of him. David made eye contact with Roger for a brief moment while on top of him, and Roger’s face turned from one of anger to relief and then happiness as David started laughing. “You fucking idiot,” said Roger, in between laughs. David stood up, still laughing, while the tour guide gave a shocked face. He soon looked relieved, probably thinking about how dumb these tourists are and thankful that nothing had happened. They got on their way, and Roger couldn’t stop thinking about how cute David looked when he laughed. He had these dimples on the edge of his lips that made his otherwise rough face appear childish and soft. His lips themselves were a work of art, with a perfect curve and volume to them. Walking along, Roger shook his head of the thoughts, and Rick had noticed. “What’s that then? You alright?” he asked Roger. “Yeah, yeah, just can’t believe that happened. He’s such a child, completely ignoring the road for something in a shop window,” said Roger. David heard this, and turned around to give Roger a dirty look. “Whatever,” he mumbled. Eventually, after a long history of the city, the five of them made their way back to where the guitar shop was. David, of course, went to pick up the Strat that was in the window. Roger laughed as he saw David’s expression, one of complete admiration. He was like a child at Christmas, opening up a toy they’ve been wanting forever. Roger giggled to himself and walked over to where the bass guitars were. At first, he was just looking over the lot, with his hands in his pockets seeming only mildly interested. Until he came across an all-black one. He couldn’t help but pick it up and admire it. Perhaps David was onto something, these black guitars with a black pick guard really had something interesting about them. He was playing a riff on one of the store’s amps when David walked over to him from behind. “Aren’t they sexy?” he asked, startling Roger. Roger jumped slightly but then turned around. “Don’t be scared Roger, it’s just me,” David said, walking over to face Roger. “Yeah, there’s something about this look. It’s sort of mysterious, and totally cool,” he said, running his hands along the bass’s neck. David giggled then looked into Roger’s eyes. They stood like that for a moment, seemingly forever, until Rick yelled from across the room. “Guy’s let’s get a move on!”  
Back in the hotel room, the band had filed into Rick’s room, talking about what they had seen that day and planning the rest of it. Later, they decided to go out for dinner in the city and then maybe to a club in the city at night. “Alright, well I’m going to grab a jacket since it’s gotten a bit colder outside,” said David, standing up from the couch. “Yeah me too,” said Roger, following him to the door. “So we’ll meet in 15?” asked Nick. “Yes,” everyone agreed. David entered his room, his eyes fixated on the window across the room. He didn’t noticed that Roger had followed behind him. The door closed, and then David turned to the side, when he caught Roger in the corner of his eye. “Roger! What-“ he was cut off when Roger moved towards him and kissed him right on the lips. David’s hands lifted in protest at first, raised up in front of him in a position that said ‘back off.’ But then they softened, and then they wrapped around Roger’s waist. Roger stopped and then looked David in the eyes. “I’m sorry, was that-“ but then again, the talking was cut short. David kissed him again, drawing him closer with the hands at his waist. “We have fifteen minutes,” said Roger, his breathing heavy. “I knew it,” started David, “I knew you liked me too, I just can’t believe it! I knew you were feeling something behind that stone cold expression,” he continued in a mocking tone. “Shut up and get on the bed,” replied Roger. “Alright then,” said David, with a cunning smile. He took off his shirt, revealing his somewhat muscular physique. Roger wrapped his hands into David’s hair and once again brought him into a kiss. Then the two of them undressed until they were left with just their underwear. Roger’s hand wrapped around David’s waist as he lay him onto the bed, following him so that he was gently laid on top of him. He could feel David’s breathing raising and bringing him back down. Everything about this moment was perfect, and Roger could’ve stopped there, since he was already at perfect bliss. But he didn’t. He kissed David again, realizing just how addicting those soft lips were. David raised his hands to cup them around Roger’s face, gently rubbing his fingers along to feel all the edges and also the soft spots. Roger’s hair wasn’t too long, but David could still feel the very ends touching his face as Roger kissed him. That feeling made him tingly, and he was trying to take in every second of it.  
Pretty soon, David could feel the hardening of Roger’s cock, which was right above his upper thighs. Roger, being the taller one, was able to feel David’s doing the same, only he felt it on his lower stomach. “Excited?” asked David. “Yeah, and so are you,” said Roger in a heavy and lust-filled whisper. Then he stood up from the bed. “Do you have anything we could use?” he asked, scanning the room. “For what?” asked David. “Well, to help- you know,“ answered Roger, David finally understanding. “Oh yeah, there’s skin care oil in my cosmetics bag,” Roger started walking then stopped. “Why do you own that?” he asked, chuckling. “How do you think I keep this skin so soft?” he said, with a defensive tone. Roger chuckled then walked into the bathroom and quickly returning with the bottle. His underwear hit the floor and he began to rub a thick layer of the oil on his cock with gentle strokes. He looked over to David, who had also removed his underwear. He was laying on the bed, one arm behind his head where he was admiring Roger. "We're really about to fucking do this?" said David. They briefly made eye contact and chuckled lightly. Roger put the bottle onto the night stand and then got back over David. Roger took ahold of David’s cock and the remaining body oil from his hands rubbed off onto it. David moaned in pleasure at the touch of Roger’s hands. His eyes begged ‘please’ as he looked at Roger with heavy eyelids. Roger moved his hand down to David’s inner thigh, pressing against it to signal for him to open them. Roger then took ahold of his own cock, and then in one smooth movement, went into David. David winced in pain, but then as he opened his eyes he smiled at Roger. “Is this okay?” asked Roger. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Amazing.”  
Roger began moving in and out faster, causing David to moan over and over. Seeing David’s face start to grow a sweat and hearing his moans turned Roger on even further. He leaned in an kissed David, even though he had so little breath he couldn’t hold it for long. Again, his breathing accelerated. “Are you close?” he asked David, who was jerking his own cock under him. “Yes, fuck yeah,” he said, in a half whisper. David’s eyes closed tightly again and he nearly yelled as he came, the fluid sprinkling onto his stomach. Roger did so at the same time, staying in David as he finished. Then he got off David to his side, and began to caress his hair. “That- I can’t believe we just fucking did that,” said David, getting up from the bed to get a napkin and cleaning his stomach. “Shit,” said Roger, looking at the time on the clock on the night stand. “We’re five minutes behind,” he said. They looked at each other then quickly scrambled to put their clothes on. The men didn’t realize the one of the socks they were wearing were from the other’s pair.  
Their hair was still disheveled as they entered the lobby. “What took so long?” asked Rick, realizing David was sweaty around his hairline. “Sorry, I completely lost track on time,” he looked at Roger and wanted to giggle so bad, but somehow resisted. “Weren’t you going to get a jacket?” he asked, eyeing them both. “Oh,” said David. “Yeah, I guess I forgot too,” said Roger. Rick eyed them suspiciously but then shrugged as he and Nick started walking. David and Roger looked at each other and chuckled in the lightest way possible so their band mates wouldn’t hear. Rick looked back at them again then he himself chuckled, causing both Roger and David to stop immediately. Nick meanwhile, continued up ahead to a taxi driver who had just approached the front of the hotel. Rick stopped in his tracks, and stuck his hands out to block Roger and David. “So, it finally happened?” he asked. “What? What happened?” asked David, his heart dropping. Roger just gave him a puzzled look. “Well, you know, you two…” said Rick, then leaning in to whisper, “You finally did it?” David and Roger pretended to be confused without breaking character. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rick,” said David, pushing his way to the side of Rick and walking towards the cab. Nick was motioning for them to get going. “Yeah, c’mon man, we’re going to miss the cab,” said Roger, keeping the puzzled look on his face as he walked past him. Rick then noticed Roger’s socks, which were both white but the logos mismatched- one from Nike and the other Adidas, and then David’s socks- the same mismatch but on opposite sides. He chuckled to himself as he made his way out of the lobby.


	4. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Syd and Roger, 1964  
> Fluffy and smutty.

It was summer 1964, and a 20-year-old architecture student named Roger Waters was making his way home to enjoy the start of summer holiday from the polytechnic institute. His short and ratty hair was starting to cover his eyes and he decided that at some point he should visit the barber to get it cut. He was wearing long pants with a long, collared shirt and small colourful scarf, which was much too heavy for this unusually warm day. He approached his flat and began to look for his keys. Finding them, he unlocked the door and headed up. “Hey,” he said, reaching the top of the stairs and finding his roommate, a fellow student named Nick Mason. “Hello,” he said in return, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading. Roger took off his shoes and approached a partly broken table in the middle of the room. “Any mail for me?” he asked, looking at a large pile of papers scattered on the table’s surface. “Yeah, a couple of letters,” Nick answered, pointing his finger to the corner of it, where two pieces of paper rested separated from the mess. “Thanks,” he mumbled, picking them up and retreating to his room. He tossed them on to a desk and then began to unpack his bag, filled to the top with papers and books, a collection of his knowledge from the school year that he would eventually throw out. Roger began to slowly unload the mess in his bag. Having spread out the pile on the bed, he realised he was a bit tired. He wanted to stay up for a long time tonight, since he made plans with Nick and a few others to go out tonight to a club a few streets over, so in order to gain energy for later he decided a short nap was due. In one long tug on the sheets, he threw every book and paper off of his bed, creating an environment that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. He fell onto his bed then set an alarm on the small clock on his night stand. It took no more than five minutes for him to drift into sleep.

He awoke by a sudden pounding on the door. Looking over at his clock after a few seconds of confusion, he noticed it had not yet been time to wake up. “Roger! Are you alive in there?” came Nick’s voice from behind the door. “Yeah, yeah, Jesus, I was just taking a nap!” he answered, rubbing his eyes. Nick opened the room and came in, his eyes darting to every corner as he looked at the mess. “Jesus- what happened here?” he asked, his eyes confused. “Just an after school mess,” said Roger, shrugging. “Whatever. Oh anyways, the boys want to go to the park beforehand, are you in?” he yelled, rather loudly, which stung Roger’s freshly awoken ears. “Okay, sure,” he said, moving his long legs to the edge of the bed and stretching. Nick left the room towards the living room as Roger got up to make his way to the bathroom. He washed his face and returned to his room, grabbing his wallet and keys before making his way to the door. In the main room, he was surprised to find his other friends, Richard “Rick” Wright, Bob Klose, and Keith Noble already in the room. Each of them had shared an interest in music, particularly jazz and blues, and this is what had brought them together in the first place. Occasionally they had tried to start up a band of their own, and sometimes they even played at local bars and pubs, but it was never anything official. “You ready?” asked Rick, standing up from the couch. “Yes,” replied Roger, and then the five of them made the way out of the door down the stairs. 

Roger hadn’t really understood why they were going to the park until Bob took out his camera and started photographing everything in sight. “It’s just the perfect day, so much sunlight is so rare here,” he said, taking a picture of Roger and Keith in front of a fountain. “It’s true, I don’t remember seeing the sun since I was five,” joked Rick. They spent a good hour or so following Bob around as he took pictures of nearly everything that crossed his path, as well as some good shots of the boys themselves. He gave them each a few to take, while piling a large stash of photographs into his own backpack as they headed out of the park.  
A few hours later, the five of them would be heavily intoxicated at the club, throwing money at pretty women and ordering more drinks. “What time is it?” asked a heavy-eyed Roger to a man near the bar, who was facing in another direction. He turned to look at a leather watch on his hand. “Almost midnight,” he answered, turning to face Roger. “Oh my god,” said Roger, a smile forming on his face. “Roger!” said the man, returning the smile. “Syd! Oh my, I haven’t seen you in forever. Do you still go by Syd?” he asked, giving him a brief hug as they leaned in closer to each other. “Yeah, yeah, I’m still Syd,” he answered. Roger then noticed how much he had changed. The last he saw Syd, he must’ve been 14, and his hair was always cut short and neat. Now, his hair had grown out to reveal curls that covered his eyes, and his soft face had gone hard and had stubble which darkened it. Roger couldn’t deny that he had certainly grown to be attractive, his large brown eyes rather charming. “What are you doing in town?” asked Roger. “Well, I’ve just moved into the city for art school,” replied Syd, taking a sip of the drink which he was holding. “Art school? That’s pretty neat. Me and the boys over there, we go to Regent Street Polytechnic, for architecture,” he replied. “Architecture? That’s cool,” replied Syd, turning back to Roger. Syd then also noticed the changes in Roger. He had grown to be incredibly tall, at least compared to his other friends. He still had the same long face and droopy nose, though, and Syd had considered these features of his friend a sort of trademark that would never go away. 

As the night lingered on, Roger was more focused on Syd than the party he originally arrived with. They spent two hours or so ordering more drinks and talking about life in general. Drunk Roger seemed to get philosophical, while a drunk Syd just wanted to dance. “Come on Rog, the music’s getting louder,” he said, grabbing his friend’s arm and trying to drag him to the floor. “Stop it! I’m not making a fool of myself,” he answered. “What, are you embarrassed?” taunted Syd. “No, I just don’t want to dance,” he answered. “Fine,” said Syd, in an incredibly sassy manner as he sauntered to the floor. Roger, then instantly feeling lonely by being the only one at the bar, followed his friend with extreme hesitation, pushing between bodies until he found the spot Syd had claimed. Seeing Roger, Syd instantly grabbed both his hands and tried to lead him into a dance. They danced together for a moment before Roger leaned over to Syd’s ear, his breath heavy of gin, and said, “We can’t dance together, people will look at us weird.” Of course, it was impossible to hear this over the loud music. “What?” asked Syd, nearly yelling. “PEOPLE WILL LOOK AT US WEIRD!” yelled Roger, pulling his arms from Syd’s hands. “I don’t care what they think,” answered Syd, shooting a cunning smile. Roger was a bit confused by Syd’s behavior but dismissed it as Syd simply having a few too many. He said ‘fuck it’ in his head and grabbed his friends arms again, this time flailing them around as he attempted to dance. “You look like a drunk baby giraffe,” yelled Syd, starting to laugh. “Oh, shut up!” replied Roger, who began laughing as well. They continued until Roger felt an arm grab his shoulder. It was Nick, who was so heavily intoxicated it seemed his eyes weren’t even on Roger’s when he was talking. “C’mon man, we’re doing the- I mean going to the home. We’re going home,” he said, fumbling over his words. “Alright, just a minute,” answered Roger. He turned back to Syd, whose eyelids were heavy from drinking. “You want to come with us? We’re going back to mine. You can see where we live and whatnot,” he asked Syd. “Sure, sure,” said Syd. Roger held Syd’s hand as he guided him through the crowd, letting it go after a few seconds as he realized what he was doing.  
They reached the door, where they found Nick, Bob, Rick and Keith all standing, to some extent, outside the bar. Rick was smoking a cigarette while Keith had his head rested against the building’s wall. “Hey guys,” said Roger, then turning to his guest. “This is Syd, he’s an old friend of mine.” Syd then smiled at the group as they each attempted to introduce themselves. Keith didn’t really say anything, he just lifted his hand to acknowledge Syd. “He’s gonna come back to the flat, I want to show him where we are,” he said, although he wasn’t sure that any of them actually heard what he said. “I’m getting a car to go home. A cab! I’m getting a cab,” said Keith, finally raising himself from beside the building and beginning to walk towards a telephone box nearby. Bob and Rick also followed him, creating a small line as each of them called a cab to their own destinations. Then, two more men staggered out of the bar. One of them was tall, and had an incredibly crooked nose. The other had bright red hair and was shorter, but muscular. “Hey! You two!” the tall one shouted, directing his gaze at Syd and Roger. “Yeah, you fags, you thought you could get away with that! We saw you!” said the red haired one. Syd and Roger looked at each other, and then tried to find Nick, who had started walking and was a good distance ahead. Then the tall one took a swing at Roger, his drunk aim causing him to miss terribly. Then the shorter one hit Syd square in the jaw. “Fuck!” yelled Syd, instantly attempting to hit him back. He did, but he was much weaker than his opponent, so he did not do much damage. The tall man was on the floor and Roger was giving him a good kick, but then he turned to find Syd in trouble. “Hey, leave him alone,” yelled Roger, punching him right in the face. Once again, it didn’t do much to the man, and he instantly jumped on Roger. His tall and skinny frame did not give him much stability, so he fell right to the ground. Then Syd jumped onto him and literally bit the man on the neck. “What the fuck! Shit! Get off me!” he stood up, grabbing onto his friend. “Shit, the fag’s given me one of his diseases!” he yelled, rubbing the bite on his neck. Roger pushed Syd on the shoulder and the two of them started running, realising this was their chance. They made it nearly half a mile until they were on a road by Roger’s flat. They came to a stop, breathing heavily. “Shit, man, are you okay?” asked Roger, looking at Syd’s bleeding nose. “Yeah, yeah, it’s not broken, just bleeding,” he said, lifting his head up to keep the blood from running. “Let’s get you inside,” he said, holding Syd’s shoulders and guiding him to the front door. Once they got upstairs, Roger sat Syd on the couch and went to the kitchen to get ice and wet towels. Nick walked into the room, looking up from a glass of water he was holding to find a man with a bloody nose in the room. “Oh shit man! What happened?” he said approaching Syd. “It’s Syd right?” he asked, assessing the damage as he sat next to him. “Yeah, and there were some stupid geezers outside the bar who jumped us,” he said, still pinching his nose so his voice sounded funny. “Here,” said Roger, coming into the room and pressing a wet towel to Syd’s face to clean the blood. “What the hell did they do that for?” said Nick, eyeing Roger as he gave Syd some ice for a bruise that started forming around his nose. “I don’t know man, we didn’t even do anything. I guess maybe cause we were dancing... together?” he said, somewhat embarrassed. Nick gave him a questioning look. “We were just having fun!” Roger protested, as he noticed Nick’s confusion. “It was nothing weird like that!” he continued, giving a disgusted face. Syd didn’t say much, since a mixture of pain and intoxication made it hard to focus on anything. “Whatever, that’s pretty rough man,” said Nick, giving Syd a pat on his leg then standing up to leave the room. “Are you alright?” asked Roger, coming over to take the spot where Nick had been. “Yeah, how about you?” asked Syd, groggily. “I don’t know I didn’t even look,” Roger said, then lifting his shirt to reveal a bruise over his ribs on his right side. It was just beginning to turn purple and the area which it covered was large. “Shit, man,” said Syd, looking at it. “That’s gonna hurt.” Then they made eye contact and laughed. It kind of hurt Syd since he had to move his face, but it was worth it. They couldn’t believe all the shit that had just happened to them. “Anyways, I think you should stay here tonight,” said Roger, coming out of the laughing fit. “I’ll get you some things,” he said. Syd just nodded a reply.  
Syd awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. He couldn’t really remember much. Something about his old friend Roger Waters, something about holding his hand and something about how lovely he looked under the coloured lights at the club...  
“Hey you,” said a voice, as Syd lifted his head from the pillow. It was Roger, holding two cups of tea and setting once beside the table near Syd. “That was something yesterday, huh?” Asked Roger, causing Syd to remember everything. “Oh yeah, that was fucking ridiculous though,” answered Syd. There was a moment of silence as they each stared into their cups of tea. “Well, anyways, I think I’ll head home to get cleaned up. If you’re free we could do something else together?” continued Syd. “Yes! Yeah, that’d be great,” said Roger, perhaps too enthusiastically. “Alright, then,” said Syd, standing up and heading towards the door.  
After a day of walking around London, Syd and Roger returned to Roger’s flat with a few new scarves, a shirt, and some new records. At this point, Syd’s nose was healed but a small bruise had formed under his left eye. Roger’s injuries were grander, but not quite visible to the eye. He found it incredibly hard to rest his arm over his ribs, but it wasn’t critical enough for a doctor’s visit. Syd walked to the record player at the corner of the room and placed the album, which had many colors on the sleeve, on the player. He listened intensely at the many strange sounds, soaking them up. Syd had an interest in psychedelic music, something new which had just started taking over the industry. “You ever try acid, man?” he said turning to Roger. “Yeah, once,” he answered. “It was really... weird. I don’t know, I didn’t like how little control I had over everything. It was just... emotional,” he said. “Yeah, it’s pretty whack,” replied Syd. “You know, you mentioned you play guitar. If you want, you could come to one of my band’s sessions sometime, see if you like it. We do mainly jazz and blues things but, I mean, we could totally try psychedelia too,” said Roger as he watched Syd staring at the record spinning around. “That sounds really fun,” replied Syd.  
They continued listening to the music and eventually sat on the couch, enjoying some tea. “Where’s... Nick? Is that his name?” asked Syd. It was already 22:00, so he found it unusual that he hadn’t returned yet. “I don’t know, probably getting destroyed somewhere,” answered Roger. Syd chuckled, then looked into Roger’s eyes. For a moment he couldn’t look away. There was something about them, the pale blue eyes seemed to hold some kind of deep wisdom Syd couldn’t understand. Roger returned the look, admiring Syd’s large, bright eyes. The hazel was amplified by the lighting in the room. They stared like that for a moment, then Syd started to lean closer, his eyes looking over every inch of Roger’s face. Taking in every curve of his lips, every edge on his bony face...  
A loud knock came from the front door. Nick stumbled in, drunk as Roger had predicted. Syd and Roger quickly distances themselves from each other, looking up to Nick. “Hey guys,” he said, walking into his room quickly, with his shoes still on. “Roger, where are my drumsticks?” yelled Nick from the other room. “How the hell am I supposed to know?” replied Roger. There was a sound of papers and other objects clattering to the floor, then Nick re emerged from his room, wielding his drum sticks. “Alright, I’m out,” he said. Roger wanted to question him on what he was doing, but he also wanted him to leave. Something was about to happen before Nick had obnoxiously busted in. Roger felt something while looking at Syd, and he knew that he had felt it back. He saw it in the other’s eyes.  
The door closed behind Nick, rather loudly, and the two of them were left alone once again. “Syd, I-“ started Roger, looking at the collar of Syd’s shirt. “I don’t know how to say this,” he said, taking a deep breath and looking away. Rather than giving Roger a questioning look, Syd just replied, “I know.” Hearing Syd say that was so reliving for Roger. But it confused him all the same. Is he attracted to me? What’s going to happen? How can I like this man? A man? This was all crazy to him. “Syd, you know we can’t- I mean I’m not-“ he stopped trying to form sentences and just sighed. Syd lifted his arm to rub it against Roger’s cheek. “But we can, I mean... we just can’t tell anyone,” he said, his eyes large and maybe even starting to water. “What kind of life is that?” asked Roger. “Why do I feel this with a man! It’s wrong, Syd!” he continued, starting to get frustrated. “Roger, stop,” said Syd, moving the hand from his face to his thigh. “There’s nothing wrong,” he continued, his soothing voice taking the anger out of Roger’s eyes.  
Then, finally, the tension in the room collapsed as Roger leaned towards Syd and kissed him. It was sloppy, as the young men didn’t really have much experience. At first, the feeling of stubble on Syd’s face, a man’s face, was unsettling to Roger, but then he just accepted it. Syd reached up to touch Roger’s cheek, holding his face in the palm of his hand. Roger’s lips were soft and large, which was very pleasing to Syd.  
He stopped and looked Roger in the eyes deeply, and then they kissed again. This time, Roger pushes him further into to couch, laying him down and resting himself in between Syd’s legs. They were both fully clothed and making out on the couch, Rogers hands beside Syd’s head and Syd’s hands running through Roger’s overgrown hair. “This is wonderful,” said Roger whispering in to Syd’s ear. “Yes,” was all Syd said before reaching up to kiss Roger once more.  
After another three minutes or so, Roger paused and rested his head on Syd’s chest. His long legs didn’t fit fully on the couch, so he was in a fetal position, whereas Syd let his legs off to the side of the couch. Roger could feel Syd’s chest moving up and down and found himself in complete ecstasy. It felt even better when Syd starting running his hands through Roger’s head again. “Roger, you’re so lovely, you know that?” he said quietly. “And you’re just, just gorgeous,” replied Roger. “Really, you are,” he continued, and then Syd chuckled. “As are you,” he replied.  
“Have you ever, um... have you ever been with another man?” asked Roger, whispering the last part. “Not really, no. I kind of flirted with this guy once but nothing ever happened. It was never like this, Roger,” he answered, still running his hands through Roger’s hair. “Well, l never expected this, certainly. I’ve had quite a few girlfriends. I think this thing that I’m feeling, Syd, I think it’s just with you,” answered Roger. “That doesn’t mean anything bad, of course,” he said, turning his head slightly towards Syd. “I don’t know Roger, same goes here, I never expected this,” he said.  
Later that year, Syd had become a key part of the band. They were fluctuating between two names for their band, either ‘Tea Set’ or ‘The Pink Floyd.’ They had also started to gain quite a following, which was incredible news for all of them. Roger’s interest in architecture seemed to go down, so he was really hoping that something would become of his musical career. Back at the same flat, Roger and Syd were sitting in Roger’s small twin bed, Syd with a guitar in his hand and Roger with a notebook. They were trying to come up with some sort of music for Syd’s new lyrics, which were incredibly bizarre. “Where do you come up with these?” asked Roger, flipping through several pages of scribbles. “I don’t know man, I guess my head is kind of a crazy place,” said Syd, strumming another chord silently on the electric which was unplugged. “Your head is a beautiful place,” corrected Roger, shooting a flirtatious look at Syd. “That’s kind of an odd compliment,” said Syd. “I’ll take it,” he continued, smiling back at Roger. A short pause followed and then Roger leaned in to kiss Syd. They had kept their relationship entirely secret, afraid of what others in the band would think, and obviously they were not going to broadcast it to the very homophobic world that they lived in. “Syd?” started Roger, running a hand on the back of his neck. “Yes?” replied the curly-haired boy, his hands still strumming silent chord progressions. “Do you ever want to- I don’t know, maybe go further?” asked Roger, his face going bright red. “What do you mean?” asked Syd, who stopped strumming. “I mean- I don’t know. I have no idea how to ask this. Some people just go for it, but I don’t know how to make the first move, you know?” Roger said, babbling and also stumbling along his words. “You mean- you mean you want to...” questioned Syd in a whisper. Before he could finish his sentence, Roger grabbed his face and passionately kissed him. “Yes,” said Syd, after he took a breath. Syd stood up and placed his guitar on the ground and began to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. Roger also stood up, setting the notebook aside, undoing his scarf and then also beginning to work on the buttons of his own shirt. They met again at the middle of the small bed for another deep kiss, both of them kneeling and embracing each other. Still kissing, Roger began to undo Syd’s belt. He threw the belt so that it made a loud clack as it hit the floorboards below. He began to pull at the man’s pants, bringing them down to reveal a pair of pink and blue striped underwear. “Cute,” said Roger, eyeing them. “Oh, shut up!” said Syd, laughing. Roger put his hand right on Syd’s crotch. “Is this okay?” he asked, and Syd simply moaned in approval. Roger ran a thumb over the tip of Syd’s cock, which was now hard. “Oh shit, Roger,” said Syd. Syd then moved his own hands over Roger’s pants, tugging at them as a form of begging for them to be removed. “Just a second,” whispered Roger as he stood from the bed and dropped his pants in one swift motion. Syd then also kicked out of his, which were still hanging by his ankles. Roger sat on the bed and Syd went to hover over him, supporting himself with his arms as he kissed Roger’s chest. “This is... wonderful,” said Roger, squirming in pleasure at every one of Syd’s touches. “Keep going,” said Roger to Syd, noticing that Syd has made his way down Roger’s waist to the end. Syd pulled Roger’s underwear down with a couple fingers, revealing Roger’s erect cock. “Put your mouth around it,” commanded Roger, with his eyes closed. Syd hesitated for only a second but then did as he was told, licking the top of it then fitting Roger’s length into his mouth. He began sucking, moving up and down to stimulate it as Roger moaned in pleasure. “Yes, Barrett, that’s good!” he said, almost too loud. Syd took ahold of his own cock and began to jerk it. His own moans, however, were blocked since his mouth was full. “Fuck, Syd,” said Roger, his hands taking ahold of the bed cover tightly. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” before he could stop stuttering, Roger came into Syd’s mouth. Syd, who was not expecting it, spat out everything in his mouth onto the floor. “Jesus!” he yelled, wiping his mouth. “That was fast, Roger,” he said, then starting to laugh. Syd kneeled on the bed as Roger got out from under him and crouched to be level with Syd’s waist. “Oh, Rog- holy shit,” he said as the man took ahold of his cock and directed it towards his mouth. “Wow,” was all Syd could say for the next few minutes. Then finally, he came too, although Roger took his mouth off before he did so that the fluid sprinkled onto his face instead of into his mouth. Once Syd was finished, Roger wiped his face with his hand and shook it over the edge of the bed. Roger and Syd then lay next to each other, cramped on the small bed as Roger pulled the sheet over them. “How was that?” he asked Syd, who was still panting. “I never expected it to be like that. It was... unreal,” he said, closing his eyes as he rested his head on Roger’s shoulder. “Do you love me?” asked Syd, then lifting his head to look at Roger’s chin. “Yes, Syd,” he replied, hugging him tighter. “I love you so much.”


	5. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Where David is a businessman and Roger is a homeless man in London 1924. Not actual members of Pink Floyd.   
> Topics: homeless, smut, divorce, 1920s

London, 1924 The winter was long and cold that year. David Gilmour, a 23-year-old businessman, was making his way home. He was dressed in a long coat and neat top hat, the harsh flakes of the blizzard cutting the edges of his defined yet soft face. He came home to his young wife, and she had sensed something in him, as she had for a long time over the last year or so. Neither of them ever brought it up. He undressed himself and they made their way to bed, where neither attempted to touch each other before they fell into a deep slumber, each left to dream their own alternative reality. In a much less glamorous side of town, a homeless man named Roger Waters was just preparing for another long night. Having found a spot in the alleyway in the grimy depths of the city, he pushed together empty crates to form a small barrier so he could be separated from the rest like him. Roger unraveled a blanket which he had carried with him all day and tried to make himself comfortable. The cold bit his toes and his nose as he drifted into a tired haze, left to a much less peaceful slumber than his counterpart.

It was exactly one year before when Roger and David had first met. David still searching for his big break and Roger simply searching for a meal to carry him to the next day. David was at a bar, drinking a large pint after a stressful day with the big shots when Roger had come inside to escape the cold. The bartender asked is Roger was having anything, and he answered yes while frantically counting the frugal amount of coins from his raggedy coat pocket. He didn’t have enough. He never did. But David noticed this, and his kindness shined through as he offered to pay the rest. They ended up drunk, and then kicked out of the bar, laughing as they tried to hold each other up on the walk to David’s flat. Roger was too drunk to think it was weird to be invited to a stranger’s house. David was too drunk to hide his feelings for Roger. They kissed, but it ended bad. “What the fuck was that, mate? Get off of me!” said Roger, pushing the stronger man after he had made his move. Roger hurried away for the apartment, hiding his face to block his blushing rather than the cold. David went looking for Roger. He didn’t acknowledge he was doing it until his wife brought it up. “Why’d you go out so late at night? And why to that part of town?” It wasn’t until three weeks later when they crossed paths, right outside the bar where they were kicked out before. “Excuse me, sir!” yelled David as he recognized Roger’s thin frame from behind and ran up to him. At first Roger’s face showed disgust. But then relief. _He feels it too,_ thought David. He had been hoping this for so long. Ever since that night no other face had quite struck his heart like Roger’s. Not any of the girls he’s been with. Not his wife. David never thought about anyone as much as this good-for-nothing beggar out on London’s dimly streets. “Please get away from me,” said Roger as he turned back around to continue his walk. He didn’t have a destination, he never did. But at that moment he needed to get away from David because David was a threat. In Roger’s head, anyone he loved was a threat. That’s how it had always been, that’s why he was where he was. His feelings for David where hurting him inside and out. It was so inconceivable, so sinful, so disgusting that there was nothing that Roger could do but run. Footsteps followed behind him, but stopped after he turned the street corner.

Another two weeks passed before the men had crossed paths. This time in a park at the city’s center. Roger shuffling through dirty garbage cans, trying to find anything to eat. “Here,” came a voice behind him, cashing him to jump. It was David. Again. He was holding a sandwich neatly wrapped in paper towels. Roger felt the instinct to run again, but he doubted he had the energy. He needed food. He took the sandwich, nodding his thanks. “Listen, Roger,” started David. But he didn’t finish his sentence because he didn’t know how. A brief moment of stutters passed before he finally just said "Sorry." And that word hurt Roger more than anything in his miserable life. _You did nothing wrong_ , he wanted to say. _I want you, too. But it couldn’t be. No way, not with a man. Not with a polished, successful man who probably has a wife and kids at home. Not me, not some dirty street rat who can’t even feed himself. Not when what we are feeling is a crime, as if my life isn’t already hard enough._ David reaches over to grab the hand that wasn’t holding the sandwich. “I’m really sorry about what I did,” he said. Roger’s heart pounded. _No. No. Yes._ Yes, he needed David, more than he’s ever needed food and water, and Roger was supremely experienced in craving those things. “David, we can’t,” he started, but then changing his statement. “Please, don’t be sorry. I know what you felt. I know what I felt. It’s real, David,” he said, his overgrown and greasy hair covering his eyes so that David could not see the tears forming. “Roger, thank God,” David said, with an exhale of relief. “You are all I’ve thought about for the past month. Please, Roger, will you touch me?” he asked. Roger moved closer and embraced the man into a hug. Then he kissed him. At first a shy peck, then a deeper kiss, where two people become one. They didn’t even realize they were right under one of the only street lamps that worked in the park. But Roger took David’s hand and led him to a small clearing in the bushes behind a tree. They sat down and once again kissed, this time only revealed by scare moonlight. _He smells awful. His hair is thin and evidently unwashed. His chin is rough, probably because he can rarely shave it. His body is so thin, I can feel the bones through his thick coat. He smells like expensive perfume. Like any perfume. His hair is soft, neat, cut in a modern trim. His body is strong. His eyes are so blue, his face is soft._ After a prolonged moment of kissing and running their hands along each other’s frames, David stopped. “I need to get home,” he said, admiration filling his eyes. To anyone else, Roger was disgusting and ugly. To David, he was all that ever mattered. “When can I see you again?” He asked, his eyes scanning the whole of Roger’s face as another hand held his shoulder firmly. “Can you come tomorrow? Please?” asked Roger. “Here, so we can do this again?” His eyes were simultaneously filled with innocent admiration and lust as he asked David. “Yes of course,” Roger didn’t leave that spot after David left. He kept thinking about him. The smell his perfume lingered on the grass where he sat. Roger had to pleasure himself then and there to get any peace that night. It was filthy, it was a homeless man in the middle of the park fantasizing about another man while his semen covered the grass. He stood up and left, walking at a quick pace and orphaning his crimes behind him. David walked home trying to calm the hot feeling in his pants. His wife was dressed up for him when he came home, although she didn’t look happy at first. “Out late, again?” she questioned. “Sorry, love,” he said, although he didn’t mean it. Yes, it was unfair to his wife. And yes, he was sorry. But she wasn’t his love. That was the part of his statement that felt untrue. He did still have sex with her that night, after coaxing her out of her anger and into the bed. But he wasn’t thinking about her breasts, her lust-filled eyes, or any part of her. When he came, he wanted to scream Roger’s name. Luckily he didn’t, but his wife questioned the way he closed his eyes throughout the whole thing as though he was imagining someone else. _He’s having an affair_ , was all she could think as David’s snores echoed in the room.

They met again at the park, as they had planned. “Told the wife I had a meeting with some investors at a restaurant,” said David as he and Roger made their way to the clearing. “You’re married?” asked Roger, even though he sort of figured he was. “Yeah,” said David, sadly. “Don’t worry about it,” he continued. “And she believed that? A meeting at 11 at night?” “I don’t know, she had some skepticism in her eyes,” They stopped talking shortly after though, because it was then that Roger had placed his hand on David’s thigh, rubbing it. This caused David to kiss him, both his hands coming in to hold Roger’s long face. Eventually David moved over Roger, his strong frame on top of Roger’s body, perhaps the warmest blanket Roger has ever had. “Roger, dear, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” said David, taking a break. “Oh please, I’m not the gorgeous one here,” said Roger, giggling. “But you are!” protested David as his finger ran alongside Roger’s jawline, tracing every detail of a face worn out by years of struggling to survive. David moved off the top of Roger to his side, where he continued to trace Roger’s body as he lay out on the grass. His fingers moved along his chest, then his arms where David squeezed gently. He made his way to his hand, which he picked up and kissed on the top. “You really don’t mind?” asked Roger suddenly. “Mind what?” Asked David, still holding Roger’s long fingers in between his own. “That I’m homeless. Dirty, useless. A man,” he said. “Please, Roger, stop,” answered David. “Of course I don’t, and please don’t be hard on yourself. It hurts to hear that. And it’s okay, Roger. I mean, the rest of the world doesn’t think so. But how can something that feels so good be so wrong?” “I just can’t believe you like me,” said Roger. “Well, for a while, I thought you didn’t feel it back. Terrified me, when you ran away that night,” said David, his hand now making its way back to Roger’s chest. “I know, and I’m sorry. It just brought back some things,” he said, turning his gaze upwards to the clear sky. “What kinda of things, if you don’t mind me asking?” Roger went on to explain how he ended up in the streets. How his father walked in on him and another boy. He didn’t even love that boy, he was just curious. He wasn’t worth ruining his life for. But it didn’t matter. His dad beat him for twenty minutes straight and then told him to leave. Roger hadn’t seen his parents since, and didn’t want to. That was that. David swept a gentle finger under Roger’s eyes as he cried. Then he held him tight in an embrace for a while. David came home even later that night, his emotions high as he felt angry at the world. Angry that the world would treat Roger this way. Yet there was a balancing force to his anger, and that was the ridiculously strong love he felt for Roger that night. He hugged his wife because he needed to. She didn’t hug him back the same way she would’ve a month ago.

A few months later, it was getting warmer out. Roger had survived the winter, which to him was a bigger success than most people would consider. He and David met at an alleyway behind the bar where they first met, as they had planned. They worried meeting in the same spot could raise suspicion, even though they never noticed anyone there. But they could never be too safe, they decided. David kissed Roger on his neck as Roger let out a hushed moan. They were standing and Roger had his back to the brick wall, not bothered by the rough surface. David then took off Roger’s raggedy jacket, then his torn shirt and began to kiss his chest he moved his lips around the visible ribs and then made his way to the area under his belly button. Roger moaned again, and David then placed his hand over his crotch area, feeling a hard spot. “Can I unzip these?” Asked David, his fingers holding the hem of Roger’s pants. “Please,” he answered in a whisper. David pulled the pants just below his buttocks. His didn’t want to fully remove them, since they were still in a public place and so the entire situation was risky. He felt Roger’s cock with his hands through the underwear. “David, please,” David slowly pulled down the underwear to rest on the pants, revealing Roger’s full cock. He had never done this before, but he figured he knew what to do with his own penis and decided to do the same with Roger’s. He began jerking it with his hand, running his thumb over the tip. He made his way to the balls, which he held in his hands and sort of massaged. Roger had one arm extended on the brick wall while another held David’s hair tightly. “Keep doing this,” Said Roger, breathing more and more heavily by the second. Then David moved another hand onto the man’s crotch. One hand was at the end of Roger’s length, encircling it while another tugged at the end. “David, I might, I’m-“ stuttered Roger. Then he came, the white mess sprinkling on David’s face. “I- I’m sorry, should I have-“ “Shush, Roger, that was perfect,” said David, standing up and wiping the fluid off his face with a handkerchief. Roger blushed and looked down. “That felt so good,” he finally said. The two of them laughed. “Your turn,” said Roger, pulling up his pants as he began to kiss David. The darkness had covered them on their very first night. The darkness covered their crime, and it covered the dirtiness of the alley they had chosen. David decided that night that perhaps the dark was a great blessing.

Now it was winter again, and the men had kept their relationship undercover for a long time. Pressure was building up in the Gilmour household, when David’s wife had finally confronted him about it. “Look, I know what you’re up to, David. Just tell me her name! Tell me, and maybe we can get over it. The two of us, there’s still hope,” she said, but her eyes said she didn’t believe that. David denied everything, which pissed her off. He slept on the couch that night. Another two nights passed in a similar fashion. “Just tell me! I already know! Just say it to my face!” screamed his wife, as she angrily slammed her palm into the counter. “Please, calm down!” said David, worries that the neighbors would call the police. “Yes! Yes! It’s true! You’re right!” He finally admitted, tears forming in his eyes. She stared at him in disbelief. Or maybe it was full belief. David couldn’t read her expressions the way he used to. She had known it for a long time. The apartment was half empty the next day. No amount of begging could have stopped her from packing and leaving that very night. David didn’t ask where she was going. He begged for her to stay but he didn’t want her there. He felt guilt and relief all at once as he poured himself a glass of whiskey at 3 in the morning. Darkness again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t like it was on his and Roger’s first night, when the dark was perfect. Or the few erotic nights that followed that one. Now, it was an emptiness, a guilt, and a confusion David had never felt. He needed Roger by his side. Desperate and despaired, he left his house at the crack of dawn hoping to find Roger somewhere.

“She left,” he said, after hugging Roger for a good minute. David found him under a bridge near the park. It was extreme luck, but to David it was a sign that he and Roger were meant to be together. “I’m sorry,” said Roger, unsure of what to feel. _Guilty? Is it my fault? Is this a good thing, though? David’s mine now. All mine._ They stood like that for another moment, rocking back and forth gently before David continued. “Come with me,” he said. “To- to your?” “Yes my flat. Remember it? Roger, it could be ours now. We’d have to be careful, obviously, but we’ve always done that. Roger, please, come live with me.” It was a question David had wanted to ask Roger forever. Ever since he saw the scrawny man attempt and fail to buy himself a single beverage at a bar. It was a lot for Roger to process. He didn’t remember life outside of sleeping on dirt or old crates every night. _When was the last time he showered? With actual water, not with a hose or in a river? Food everyday? And David with me?_ It was a dream come true for Roger. Of course he said yes. Even though it was light outside, David and Roger held hands while making their way through the awakening city, to the comforts of a new life.

David held Roger against the sheets. His fingers were interlaced with Roger’s on both hands as his body pinned the smaller man down. It was new for both of them, having sex in an actual bed. Their clothes scattered the floor, and Roger’s hair was wet from the miraculous shower he had before hand. David intensely kissed Roger’s neck, leaving purple marks as evidence. “David?” Started Roger. “Yes, my love?” He replied, in between kisses. “How do we do this next part?” he asked, rather shyly. They hadn’t exactly had any form of penetration in the months before, but it was clear that both of them wanted it at this point. “Well,” started David, realizing he himself did not really know. It was confusing with a man. Not that it felt wrong. It was just less... straightforward, especially in this area. “How about I take your legs?” said David, lifting up Roger’s legs so that they were above his own head, and exposing his ass. David spat on his hands and rubbed his own cock. “I’m going to go in now, Roger. Are you okay?” He said. “Yes,” he moaned. It was clumsy and somewhat awkward, but eventually David got into Roger. He began moving slowly, his hips colliding with Roger’s. David’s arms were still holding Roger’s legs in their position. Roger took ahold of his own cock. Then, David’s movements got faster. And faster. “Do it, David. Please!”yelled Roger, as he came. Hearing Roger caused David to come right after. He panted and then moaned Roger’s name. “Yes, Roger. God, you’re so good!” He fell onto the bed next to him, pulling the covers up to both of their torsos. David rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder. “That was incredible,” he said, one of his hands reaching up to pet Roger’s head. “Yes, but now I have to shower again,” Said Roger, noting the sweat on his chest and back. They giggled. David looked Roger into his eyes.“Good thing the shower’s big enough for two,”


	6. David Gilmour / Rick Wright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick receives appreciation from David   
> No smut

It was December of 1972. The British psychedelic band called Pink Floyd was at the iconic Abbey Road Studios in Studio 3 working on what would become one of the most recognizable albums in all of rock n’ roll, _The Dark Side of the Moon_. On this particular day, the weather was brutal, and it took a long time for the members to regroup inside the cozy studio. It took David a particularly long time, since the taxi he was taking got stuck in the snow. Eventually, however, all four of them were in the studio, along with some technicians who waited behind a glass pane for the boys to begin their art. They recorded the four opening tracks in the next three hours, and Rick was still working on rearranging the tapes while the other three went out to grab lunch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” asked a smiling David from the mixing room’s door. “No, it’s alright,” said Rick, offering a reassuring smile. “I had a lot for breakfast.” Recording would continue later that day, although at this point it was more finishing up the previous songs rather than actually recording any new materials. Roger was complaining about something to Rick when David interrupted. “What’s going on here?” he asked, trying to break up the small quarrel that had risen. “Well, Roger here wants there to be another screaming track over the first one,” said Rick, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “It will be a perfect transition!” argued Roger. “Well, just put in a snip at the end. But don’t make it longer than 30 seconds, or it will get... _annoying_ ,” said David. He was tired of Roger acting like he owned the rest of the band and anything he wanted was most important. It was true that Roger’s screaming tracks were a vital part to the band’s sound, but sometimes he was so unnecessarily aggressive about it. What also bothered David was how much he attacked Rick, particularly. Rick was a polite young man, so it would be unlike him to ever protest Roger. He hated how Roger took advantage of that. Eventually, Roger gave a somewhat satisfied grunt and left the room. Rick held a pair of headphones up to his ear to listen to the track again. “How’s it going?” asked David, walking closer towards the table filled with various tapes and scattered things. “Yeah, good,” said Rick, handing David the headphones. David took a listen. It sounded way better than before, the bass from the heartbeat’s sound effect was intensified and refined. “Damn, Rick,” he said, removing them from his head. “It’s perfect,” “Well, thanks, David,” he said, perhaps blushing in the slightest. “You’re so underappreciated in this band, it's terrible,” started David, moving in closer to where Rick was seated. He then put his hand on his shoulder. “Just wanted you to know I really love everything you do here.” Rick didn’t know how to react. It was so unusual for someone to give him credit for his mixing work. Yet, if anyone were to do it, it would’ve been David. He was always the sweetest, at least to him. The touch of David’s hand sent a subtle shiver down his spine and he blushed harder. “Thank you David, that’s very kind of you,” “Hey guys, ready for track 5?” came a voice from behind them. It was Nick, standing in the doorway, drumsticks in hand. “Yeah, coming,” said Rick, standing up from the chair. David took his hand off and looked, almost sadly, to the ground. Then he snapped out of his trance in an instant and followed Rick out the door.

The song they were recording was the classic ‘Money’. The song had an unusual time signature, 7/4-4/4, which Roger had come up with in an attempt for a unique sound. Originally, it took the band some time to recreate what Roger had in mind. But now, they played it flawlessly from beginning to end. The only thing left was some cash register sound effects to be added at the beginning, and a few tracks of voices in the end. David played the solo perfectly the first time round, something which he did so beautifully Rick couldn’t help but stare from behind his keyboard. He almost lost track of his place at one point, but snapped back into it just in time. Rick took the tapes from the technicians and began making his way back to the mixing room. They already had pre-recorded tapes of the cash registers, now the only thing left was putting them together. In the room, Rick had only begun setting up the tapes when David came back in. “Hey,” he said, walking back to the table. Rick stood up, rather quickly, and at first, David gave a puzzled look. But then he caught the look in Rick’s eye. David grabbed Rick by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in. He kissed the man, their heights aligning almost perfectly so that their lips were leveled. Rick did not resist, which came as a relief to David. He knew what he saw in Rick’s eyes, his movements, his blushes. But he just wasn’t completely sure until this moment. But now he knew that Rick wanted this. David made his way to the skin under Rick’s chin. Both of them had significant stubble growing on their chins, and Rick felt the lightest scratch when David kissed that sensitive part of his neck. He let out a small noise, but it wasn’t dissatisfaction. David pulled apart from him, both of them breathing hard. “Rick, you’re beautiful,” said David, his eyelids heavy with lust. Rick took in everything from David’s appearance; his eyes, which looked so gorgeous in the studio’s dim lighting. His large lips and his slightly disheveled long hair. He was undeniably stunning. “You are so... _hot_ ,” said Rick, chuckling as he ended the sentence. David chuckled in return. They kissed again, this time Rick pulling David in by the face, his fingertips feeling alongside his defined chin. David’s arms moved to hold the small of Rick’s back, drawing his body slightly closer to his own so the coldness in the room disappeared. David moved his hand under Rick’s shirt, his hand tracing every detail of his chest, feeling all the exposed bones of his ribs to the softer area of his stomach. The cold hand sent a shiver down Rick’s spine but then he felt pleasure from David’s touch. Then a loud noise came from the other end of the room, sending in a blinding light. The two men pulled away from each other, disoriented by the disturbance. “What the fuck,” They recognized it was Roger’s voice. “David, Rick?” said Roger, whose face was now visible to them. Both of them were panicking, but they tried their hardest not to show it. Roger’s face showed a mixture of shock and disgust. “I’m- I was going to- Oh, never mind,” he said, placing some tapes on a table near the door. “Jesus, fuck,” he said leaving the room. He left the door somewhat open. David and Rick turned to each other. For a moment they looked scared, but then they started laughing. “Oh, fuck,” said David, exhaling. “Do you think he saw?” said Rick, chuckling. “I mean, definitely. Right? Why else would he be so pissed and weirded out? answered David. “He’s always like that,” said Rick, both of them breaking into laughter again. They left the room a few minutes later, Rick having packed the tapes into a basket. He decided he would finish the rest tomorrow. They walked down a hall that lead to the studio, where Nick and Roger were improving on the instruments. Roger looked up and the sight of them startled him, causing him to lose place in what he was playing. “Sorry, Nick,” he said after a few seconds. Then he cleared his throat. “Um, are we ready to pack up for the night?” Roger asked, avoiding eye contact with David and Rick. “Yeah, pretty much,” said David, acting normal even though he found the situation incredibly hilarious. Watching tough Roger crumble like that was so rare, he couldn’t help but ravish the moment. Rick walked over to the keyboard to take his notebooks off, while David cleaned up his guitar cables. Rick looked over at David and both of them smiled. Roger noticed this and sighed audibly. “ _Man whore_ ,” he whispered. “What was that, Rog?” asked David, even though he heard exactly what he said. “Oh, nothing,” he said, with a tinge of pettiness. Nick gave them both a weird look but then dismissed it as the usual Roger starting a fight with anything that moves. Nick left first, simply picking up his drumsticks and making his way out. There was tension in the air as David, Rick and Roger were all in the same room. “So, um, guys,” he started, staring at the ground, then at the ceiling, then anywhere but who he was addressing. “Is there- um, something to... discuss? It’s just I- I didn’t know,” He kept fumbling over his words and David noticed Rick trying to hide his smile as Roger’s face kept growing redder. “Rog, what do you think you saw?” asked Rick, looking over at him. David picked up on what Rick was doing and started chuckling. “Oh please, Rick, don’t try that. I know what I saw,” said Roger. “Listen, guys, it’s okay,” he continued. “I just didn’t know, so it kind of just... startled me. And, for Christ’s sake, is that room safe to go in? Knowing you, David...” he said, making a disgusted face. David and Rick started laughing. “Yeah man, it’s safe,” he answered. The tension in the room finally died down, and they made their way to the studio’s lobby. It was dark outside and no one else was there anymore, so they had to fumble around to find the door due to the lack of a light source. Roger’s ride pulled up and he made his way to the car, waving to David and Roger, who were still awaiting a cab. Rick’s driver pulled up shortly after. “Alright, well, that one’s for me,” he turned to say goodbye, but David leaned in to give him a light kiss. “Stay safe!” he called out as Rick made his way out the door, his breath turning to vapor against the cold wind. “Love you!” replied Rick, turning up his coat’s collar to block the biting breeze.


	7. Syd Barrett / Richard Wright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: Early Floyd, 1967, Strong language, stereotypes about gay people, angsty, problems with the wife, you know how it is.

The bricks of the building were a faded red, one that shows old age yet reserves a certain type of beauty all the same. It was a warm day in England, something which the citizens never took for granted, especially given the fact that it was early spring and typically at this point of the year, people stayed indoors whenever they could. But on this day, children flooded the streets, some entertained by games while others found entertainment in disturbing the neighbors. A figure made his way through the street, his slightly above average height being a stark contrast to the children. The figure was Rick Wright, a keyboard and piano player, and he was making his way to his bandmate’s flat, where he was hoping to finalize some of their songs before a recording session next Tuesday. The other members, Roger and Nick, would not be coming since their parts were more or less completed. Rick approached a door that had clearly taken a beating through the years, long strands of paint peeling off. He tried to avoid chipping the paint further when he knocked, yet he still felt a slight pinch as his knuckles met the sharp ends. Shortly after, the door swung open and there stood his bandmate, Syd Barrett. He wore a yellow button-up shirt with an unusual paisley design, a pastel blue scarf and pants with vertical stripes. Such clothing was certainly not out of style at this time, yet Syd had always taken it one step further, always choosing the most bizarre color combinations he could. His outfit outmatched Rick’s black pants and white button-up.

“Hello, mate,” said Syd, pointing a friendly hand into his apartment as a form of invitation. Rick took off his shoes and made it into the cozy room, which was technically small but had high ceilings, creating a feeling that it was spacious. A black cat ran across the room at the sight of Rick. “You’re not allergic to cats, right?” asked Syd, coming up behind him. “No, no, not at all,” replied Rick, eyeing the cat that was giving him a suspicious look. “Good, because that would be unfortunate. That’s Sam over there, and I’m also caring for my neighbors cats, Lucy and Klaus, although I have no idea where they are,” he continued. Rick gave him a questioning look. “I meant that they’re somewhere upstairs!” he said, laughing. “I didn’t lose my neighbor’s cats entirely,” Both of them laughed. “Well, anyways, do you want tea or something?” asked Syd, walking into the main room. “I’m actually all set,” answered Rick. “It’s a bit hot out for tea,” “Yeah, oddly strange weather for today,” replied Syd, shifting his gaze to outside the window. He made his way to a couch, where he comfortably spread himself out. Rick, meanwhile, made his way to an upright piano which was against a wall, perpendicular to the couch. He took out some notebooks from his bag and propped them against the piano’s music stand. “I was thinking to add that at the end,” said Rick. At this point, he was improvising for twenty minutes, each time switching a couple of notes. “Sorry that took me a while to piece together. I listened to the tapes and had a basic idea, but it took a while to polish,” he continued. “No, don’t apologize,” came Syd’s voice. “That was brilliant,” Rick looked over from behind his shoulder to see Syd laying across the couch, his legs crossed and his hands behind his head, nonchalantly. His eyes were filled with admiration and were deeply fixed on Rick. Rick found this a bit odd. _‘Had he been like that the whole time?’_ he thought to himself. He started blushing and turned back to face the piano so Syd wouldn’t see. It was certainly weird, but Rick tried his best to ignore it as he began writing down the notes for the song into one of his notebooks. He scribbled over the old ones harshly then wrote down the new ones fast, so he wouldn't forget them. From behind, Syd admired Rick. He loved his work with the piano and almost felt some level of guilt for never giving him the praise he needed. Among the four of them, he wasn’t the only one guilty of this, but he still acknowledged that Rick was underappreciated. Furthermore, he was entranced by his cool, collected personality, and the way his hair sort of covered his forehead and eyes, which reflected his humility in a physical way. There was something undeniably attractive about Rick, although Syd couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

“Which one should we work on next?” questioned Rick, his query taking Syd out of his trance. “What?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the top part of Rick’s shirt which had been unbuttoned to adjust to the heat. “Which song next?” asked Rick, again. “Oh, sorry, um... have you worked on Bike?” replied Syd, trying hard to focus on Rick’s face with a serious manner. “Yeah, actually, take a listen,” he answered, before turning back to the piano to play a melody. Once again, Syd took in every detail of his movements, his hair moving slightly in response to the sharp movements of his shoulders. He tried to imagine how the muscles in his back would move if he took his shirt off, but realizing where his mind began to wander, tried to snap out of it. Once again, he felt guilt, only this time it was for lust. Lust for a friend. Lust for a _man._ “Yeah, that was great,” said Syd, now standing up as Rick’s piece came to and end. He walked over to where Rick was seated. “Except, do you think the last part, could it go more like this?” he asked, reaching his hands around Rick from behind to play a different chord at the end. Once again, Rick felt blood rush to his face. Syd was definitely too close to him now. Having played the chord, Syd looked into Rick’s eyes, their face now inches apart. In an attempt to break the moment, Rick cleared his throat, then said, “Yes, great, I like that,” He turned around to his notebook and began adding the new music. Then, Syd reached a hand to Rick’s face to gently turn it in his direction and kissed him right on the lips. In the first few seconds, everything was okay. Syd felt compliance from Rick as he kissed back, but then it was broken by Rick pulling back. “No way,” he said. “Syd! You... I...” he couldn’t make a single sentence. Syd just looked at him, searching in his eyes for something, anything. Something that said ‘I feel this way too’ but Rick’s expression at this moment was unreadable. “Syd, I’m not...” started Rick, now eyeing Syd again. “I’m not a homosexual, and I’m married, for Christ’s sake!” he continued, the slightest amount of anger now raising in his voice. “I’m sorry!” said Syd franctically, lifting his hands in front of him to try and get Rick to calm down. “That was wrong, Syd,” replied Rick, now standing up so he was level with Syd. “I think I’m going to go home now,” he said, already picking up his bag to pack his notebooks. “No, Rick. Please, I’m sorry. Don’t go,” Syd said, a drop of desperation in his voice. Rick hoisted the bag on his shoulder and quickly made way for the door. “Please, stay. Rick!” he continued from the other room, his voice now shaky as if he was about to cry. “Don’t you dare tell anyone,” said Rick, his voice not entirely aggressive, but not gentle as he usually was, either. The door closed behind him as he quickly walked into the street.

Syd sat onto the piano bench. He held his face in his hands for a moment, then yelled “Fuck!” as his voice officially broke into tears. The yell startled one of the cats and he heard it run in the other room. _‘I fucked up,’_ he thought. Syd knew things would never be the same. He thought he could be vulnerable. He was certain Rick felt the same way. He saw the look in his eyes, and how it differed from the look he gave anyone else. He was sure. And now he wasn’t. Now, the band was over, and even worse, his friendship with Rick. What Syd didn’t know is that Rick was having similar thoughts as his feet moved at a quick pace, his coat collar turned up in an attempt to block his face. He didn’t want anyone to see what he was feeling. Embarrassed, angry, shocked, confused, flattered. There were a million things and the feelings all burned into one, hot, bubbly mess. _‘Syd’s gay,’_ he thought. Then, _‘Maybe I am too,’_ Perhaps the fact about Syd shouldn’t come as much of a shock to Rick. There was always something more flamboyant, more feminine about him. The way he walked, the way he dressed. Rick just thought of him as an extrovert, but now it came together in his head. But what confused him more was that he liked it. He liked the feeling of Syd’s rough chin against his own. Every other face that ever came in contact with him was a woman’s. Soft. Small. But this was a different feeling. And Rick tried to rub it out of his memory like he would scribble out his old music ideas. But it didn’t go away easy. Because it wasn’t just in his head, he felt it in his chest, too. And his hands, which were ever so slightly shaking. And in other places. _‘Fuck me, I like Syd,’_ was the last thought he had as he finally fell asleep that day.

The next morning, Syd didn’t know what to do. He barely slept the night before, so he felt a strong wave of fatigue over him as he sat in the kitchen, sipping tea. He also felt defeated, heavy, and simply didn’t want to do anything. He was thinking that Rick had probably already told the other two, and that it was the end of his career. Not only as a musician, but maybe in every other way, too. Certainly what he did was not only illegal, but _disgusting,_ according to everyone else. Eventually, after sitting in the same position for nearly half an hour, Syd decided he needed to do at least something, so he went into the living room to paint, in the hopes that it would make him feel better. _‘Please, just get Rick out of my head,’_ he thought as he started outlining a vase of flowers on the canvas.

Rick, meanwhile, was having a conflicting morning. He awoke with a start at 6:00, having a dream about Syd which ended quite tragically. Yet, when he awoke, he was in a good mood. He recognized this feeling as one of love, ecstasy. For a few seconds he was in total bliss until he felt the other body in his bed. _His wife._ A shocking reality hit Rick like a freezing wave as he realized he had not once thought of her after the ordeal with Syd. Well, he had used her as an argumentative point, but didn’t even think twice about her when he was thinking about _Syd_. Guilt hit him hard as he turned his body to face the outside of the window, away from her. Everything was fine until he felt a hand come around from behind to rub his chest. “You alright, darling?” asked his wife, her voice sleepy. “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he lied, his body tensing at the feeling of her skin against his. Desperately, he tried to shake Syd out of his mind. _‘This is so fucking wrong,’_ he realized. She moved closer to him, now burying her nose into the back of his neck. “You sure? You seem stressed,” she questioned, her movements gentle and genuine. She started kissing his neck, but the problem was that he was already aroused, and not from her. Once again, the confusion, anger, and embarrassment hit him. Worst of all, a strong sense of guilt. “Maybe you need a bit of cheering up,” she teased, now wrapping herself around him. Desperate to escape the situation, Rick moved away from her and got out of bed. “I, uh, I have to pee,” he said, rushing to the bathroom. She found the situation odd but did not question it when Rick came back from the bathroom several minutes later, appearing much calmer. He got into bed, giving her a somewhat insincere hug. “I’m gonna go back to sleep for a few more minutes,” he said, closing his eyes, wishing the body he was wrapped around was someone else’s.

Syd finished his painting and looked at it critically. Like many artists, he was often judgmental of his own work, but today it was less about being angry with the colors and more about feeling empty. He was becoming aware of just how much he was moping and thought of it as ridiculous, yet every time he remembered Rick sitting at the piano bench, that small smile from behind his lips, his dark blue and enigmatic eyes, he felt the wave hit him all over again. He sat on the couch, his oversized shirt covered in layers of paint along with his forearms and hands. Sam hopped on to the couch, his body snuggling up to his owner. Syd took his cat close to his body, finding that stroking his fur was relaxing. “Oh, Sam,” he chuckled. “Being human sucks, I wish I was like you,” he whispered to the cat, who gave him a blank expression in response. It cheered him up in some way, as his cat always did.

Rick was now making his way across a crumbling road, wearing a long coat as the weather today was not as friendly as it had been. He was headed for Syd’s determined to set things right. He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but his legs were determined, moving at a quick pace as he turned to corner to the brick building. Uncertainty grew exponentially with ever step he took. Early that day, when he had finally gotten out of bed, he knew he was coming to Syd’s to tell him that he forgives him, but also to never do it again. That he has a wife, and he is faithful to her and loves her, and that he’s not gay. He wouldn’t tell anyone else, but he’s not getting involved either. Yet now, as the cold breeze hit his cheek, his feelings changed. _‘Shit,’_ was the last thought he had before Syd opened his door. Today he was wearing a much different outfit, pajama bottoms with a large, white shirt covered in nearly every color conceivable. His hair was messy, probably unwashed, and a dark frame under his eyes showed that he didn’t really sleep much. “Rick?” he said, a glistening appearing in his eyes. “Syd, I’m so sorry I stormed out yesterday-” “No I’m sorry, Rick. That was wrong. It’s wrong,” interrupted Syd, turning his eyes downwards so his gaze was fixed at the corner of the room. “Syd, wait,” said Rick, inviting himself in. “It’s okay,” he said, in the typical, comforting voice he had. “If that’s how you feel, it’s okay,” he said, now reaching a friendly hand onto Syd’s shoulder. The touch was electric, and nearly sent a shiver down Syd’s spine. _Hope._ “It’s just I- I don’t know how to tell you this,” continued Rick, looking right into Syd’s eyes. His eyelids were heavy, and this time, Syd could read his expression. _It was true._ Rick leaned in and kissed Syd, tasting the remnants of black tea on his lips as he took in the feeling of his unshaven chin on his own. Syd reached a hand up to Rick’s face, stroking his cheek softly. Still, there was some uncertainty between them. Some background sense of guilt and confusion. Yet, as the kiss continued, the feelings moved further and further until they were gone and Rick moved his body right against Syd’s pushing him back so that Syd hit the wall behind him.

“Oh my god, Rick,” said Syd, breathing heavy as the kiss broke. Rick closed the front door harshly and then took Syd’s hand leading him into the living room. They kissed again, this time Rick taking Syd’s face in both his hand as Syd’s hand found their way to Rick’s back. Rick was simultaneously trying to take off his shoes and managed to, causing Syd to laugh in between their moment. “Sorry,” said Syd, still chuckling. Rick looked at Syd’s face, realizing just how much joy that laugh brought to him. Rick took off his long coat and threw it onto the couch. They embraced again, Syd leaning his head on Rick’s chest, still standing. “I can’t believe you felt it too,” said Syd, his eyes closed, feeling the rise and fall of Rick’s chest. “I’m so sorry I freaked out yesterday,” replied Rick. “It was so... overwhelming and just... unexpected. Unexpected but so beautiful,” he continued. “Let’s go upstairs,” said Syd, looking up to Rick with lust in his eyes. “Yes, please,” he replied, following Syd’s exciting walk up to where a cramped bedroom was. Syd sat down on the edge, his motions shy but at the same time, flirty. Rick moved cooly towards him, kissing him and then moving his body over Syd as Syd’s back hit the mattress. Suddenly, something from underneath the bed made a loud sound, and a fluffy, white cat ran out from underneath, startling both men. “Sorry, that would be Klaus,” said Syd, as Rick laughed. “They’re always ruining things,” continued Syd. Rick dismissed the moment and leaned in towards Syd again, his body now closing the gap that lay between them. Syd’s legs wrapped around Rick’s, bringing a much desired warmth between them on the rather cold day. Syd’s lifted his hands towards Rick’s chest, his fingers prying at the buttons. “May I?” he asked, a sly smile escaping the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” replied Rick. It took only a matter of seconds before all their clothes were on the ground, except for their underwear, which did very little to hide each other’s excitement.

“Holy shit,” said Rick as his eyes scanned Syd’s revealed body. “You’re gorgeous... and you’re huge,” Syd laughed out loud. “Yeah, because you’re here,” replied Syd. Rick’s hands traced the outline of Syd’s ribs and stomach as they made their way downwards. Very gently, he pulled down Syd’s underwear, forcing Syd to lift his body so Rick could move them down to his ankles from his laying position on the bed. “Oh, my,” said Rick in a whisper. “I must say, I’ve... uh, I mean I guess you’ve figured I’ve never done this,” said Rick, now growing nervous. “Obviously women have done it to me, but I-” “Neither have I,” Syd interrupted. “Whatever you do, I’ll love it,” said Syd, giggling slightly. With no time to spare, Rick moved his mouth over Syd’s erect cock. The mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort at the cool feeling cause Syd to grab the sheets and squirm slightly. “Rick, that feels- that feels so good, keep going,” said Syd, his breathing increasing. Rick moved from his cock to kiss his chest, meanwhile stroking his own cock. Then he kissed Syd again, right under the chin. Syd moaned in approval, bringing his hands up to move Rick’s hair from his eyes. “Your eyes, they’re gorgeous,” he said. “Like a small cosmos,” “And yours are like the sweetest honey,” said Rick in reply, his gaze picking up the details of Syd’s dark eyes that could only be seen at such a close distance. Rick moved back to Syd’s cock, taking it in his mouth again. His movements got faster as he felt Syd’s hips moving in response. Rick’s hands held Syd’s thighs down, and he was hoping he wouldn’t bruise them. “Yes, Rick! Please!” Syd was nearly screaming, his arousal dismissing any worry Rick had. Rick took his mouth off as Syd came, the sticky white covering his stomach as the last breaths of orgasm escaped his mouth. Sweat had formed around Syd’s hairline, causing the curly mess to grow even curlier. Seeing Syd in this state aroused Rick even further, so when Syd took ahold of his cock, it seemed like only seconds before he too reached the state of pure ecstasy, his semen covering Syd’s hands and parts of the bed sheets. “Holy- oh, my God, Syd, that was perfect,” Rick gasped, his head facing upward and his eyes closed as he relished the moment. Syd kissed Rick’s chest and then made his way up to his face. They embraced again, now moving so they were side by side on the bed. Rick’s hands were tangled in Syd’s hair as he kissed him over and over on the lips, cheeks, forehead and any other place he could. He wanted all of Syd, and felt the same in response as Syd’s hands traced every detail of Rick’s body. “I have never felt so good in my life,” admitted Rick, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Me neither, Rick,” replied Syd. _“You’re beautiful.”_


	8. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: 1977, Recording Animals, fighting, mention of mental illness, no smut, both David and Roger are kind of assholes but bear with me

Another one of David and Roger’s fights was going on in the studio. They were so engaged in what they were debating that they didn’t even notice Rick and Nick leave, which they had the tendency to do when these things got out of hand. There was no one in the room, something which should have gotten them to stop, but ended up fueling their argument furthermore as they realized no one would try to stop them. “Roger, you have to get your stupid fucking power complex under control!” “No David, you can just waltz in here and take over my band after Syd left. You can’t even play guitar like him. Your style is just bland!” “Oh please, I did this for you guys! I didn’t ‘take over’ your band, your fucking lead man couldn’t get himself under control with all those drugs!” Roger gasped and moved in closer to David. “You take that back, David. You know the man is sick,” ''No,” David said, his expression changing from one of anger to a soft but still defensive expression. “I can tell how desperately you want to be the leader here, but that doesn’t mean everything suggestion me or Rick make is automatically wrong.” Get over yourself,” he said, quieter, in the hope that maybe the argument would end soon. Roger exhaled and the anger visibility continued boiling in his face. “Fuck you, David,” he said, putting down his bass which he had been holding the whole time. “I don’t understand what your deal is,” continued David. “How can you hate violence and totalitarianism when your behavior directly reflects those things?” “Oh, look at David, using big words. Didn’t even know your brain could produce a thought every once in a while,” David was taken aback by this, a little offended, but he also wanted to laugh. He decided against that, however, since he was trying to win this argument. Roger continued his belittling in regards to David’s intelligence, but the words just blurred at that point. David wasn’t focused on what he was saying, rather, how he looked when he was flustered. His hair, which was long and typically neat now featured random strands coming out from the sides. His neck and arms were showing his veins and his face was red, with the tiniest shine from sweat forming at the top. “You fucking wish you were the leader, but the leader doesn’t have to be pretty, they have to have a fucking brain!” yelled Roger, pointing a finger to his own head. David then grabbed Roger’s sweater and pulled the taller man towards himself, landing a kiss right on the lips. Roger’s body froze in shock and his hands were facing outward in a defensive position, but they did not push David off. As a matter of fact, there was little resistance coming from Roger, which was so unlike his character nearly five seconds prior. David brought the kiss to and end as he backed up and moved his hair on one side behind his ear, cracking a gentle smile as he walked, calmly out of the studio. He knew Roger wouldn’t say anything and he reveled in this moment of peace. The next day, the studio was significantly quieter. Rick, Nick, and David were already setting up when Roger came in, avoiding eye contact with David as he prepared himself for the recording. Rick looked like he wanted to ask a question, but avoiding doing so, partly out of fear that another fight might go down. “Good morning,” said David to Roger. It seemed to have caught Roger off guard, who looked flustered for a moment before finally replying to David. Rick gave a questioning eye to Nick, but Nick just shrugged in return. It took a whole day to record one of the tracks, since most of it involved overdubbing and adding sound effects rather than actually playing. Even though the bass parts were not complex, Roger found himself messing up over and over again, which also added on to the time. Roger messed up a riff for the fourth time in a row and yelled “God damn it, David!”, somewhat unintentionally. David then gave out a light chuckle, leading to even more confusion between Nick and Rick. Finally, Roger got up, declaring “It’s time for a break, I think,” while walking down the hall of the studio room to one of the instrument storage rooms. David noticed but the other two just got up and left the studio all together, fearing another deafening quarrel. David found the room where Roger was, and opened the door to find him standing in the dark, cigarette in between his lips. “Roger, are you all right?” “Really, David? You’re really going to just pretend nothing happened?” “That’s not what- I just wanted to-” “That was very wrong, what you did yesterday,” “Yeah, but it got you to shut up,” replied David with a chuckle. But Roger did not smile in return. “Well who wouldn’t be completely shocked if their band mate kissed them out of the blue!” “You’re the one who called me pretty,” said David, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. David really did have a charm that was hard to resist. “Well... well that was...” Roger fumbled for words desperately, shaking his cigarette in the air, causing all the ashes to spread around the room. “That was just a general appreciation, that’s it!” “Oh, really?” asked David, stepping towards him again. The room did not provide much light but Roger could see David’s eyes, which were heavily lidded. “You appreciate me?” “Yes, of course,” said Roger, throwing his cigarette carelessly onto the ground where he stepped on it. “I really thought it was all over before you came,” he continued, looking down onto the ground. David had never seen Roger so vulnerable. It was something one couldn’t imagine until they had actually seen it happening. Once again, David stole a kiss from Roger, this time using his arms to push him against the wall that was closely behind them. “David, I’m not- I don’t think we should do this,” he continued. “I mean, we’re band mates, I thought this was just a way to get me to shut up,” “Well, yes, but you’re also very pretty, you know?” replied David, his voice now at a whisper. “No, David, this doesn’t make sense,” David reached a hand to Roger’s crotch, feeling the obvious hardness through his jeans. “See? You want it,” Roger slapped David’s hand off his area. “No, you fucking pervert,” said Roger, now almost yelling. “That was so wrong, David,” he continued before storming the room.

David was at home unaware of what to do. He was sure this was what Roger wanted. Now he was worried about everything. Certainly, whatever little bond there was between him and Roger was now broken. And the band? He couldn’t be sure how the future looked. He sighed as he took another swig of gin from the glass in his hand, and decided he needed to swallow his pride and apologize. He really fucked up and this was the only thing, the decent thing, to do. He got up and walked to a nearby market. He saw flowers outside and considered them for a moment. Wait, what kind of man buys another man flowers? he then realized how strange it was that he actually considered that. He bought a six pack of lagers, which he believed were Roger’s favorites, and then took a cab to his band mate’s house. It took a while for Roger to open the door. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but eventually decided he would like to see what David had to say. “Roger,” said David, with a relieved face showing his appreciation that he had actually opened the door. “Look, I-” “Come inside,” said Roger, cutting off David from his apology spiel. “Oh, alright, thank... thank you so much,” David made himself comfortable in Roger’s living room. “Here, I bought these for you,” he said, placing the six pack on the table in the room’s center. Roger sat on an armchair across from David, and for a moment there was an awkward silence before David broke in. “Listen, I’m sorry, Roger. Really, I am. It was wrong for me to do that, clearly you were uncomfortable, I should’ve known,” David seemed to keep talking, but Roger had already forgiven him. What Roger couldn’t forgive was himself. He really did feel excited when David touched him, and he just couldn’t believe it. He knew he wasn’t a queer. He’s loved women, had sex with women, all his life. It just didn’t make sense to him. Yet, as he stared at David, who kept running his hands through his hair while desperately explaining himself, Roger couldn’t shake the thought that he really was pretty. Gorgeous even. He wanted David right next to him. He wanted David touching him. “Roger?” came David’s voice, breaking his fantasies. “I can leave, if-” “No, no please stay,” replied Roger, now fully back to reality. “Listen, David, I- there was- no, what I’m trying to say is that I forgive you, David. It’s okay, please don’t worry about it,” A look of relief spread itself across David’s furrowed eyebrows, and a glint of gratitude as well. “I won’t ever do it again,” said David. _No,_ thought Roger. _Please do._ “Wait, David, that’s not what I meant,” They made eye contact and for a few brief seconds, confusion was in the air. But then it came down like the humidity after a storm and they both understood. They got off their seated areas and met in the middle of the room, where they embraced and kissed. Roger’s slightly taller stature caused his hair to flow over David’s face, while David’s was pushed from his face by Roger’s hands. “This is exactly what I meant,” whispered Roger, into David’s ear. David could feel Roger’s nose touching the soft part of his ear lobe, as well as his hair, and a warm feeling began to arise in his chest. _Passion. Lust. Love._ They all burned in David as Roger pushed himself closer to David, his hands now placed on the small of his back, in a protective embrace. It was here that both David and Roger finally felt comfortable in each other’s presence, years of anger extinguished as they finally found the root of their problems.


	9. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: Angst, then Soft Love, Long ass sex scene, Nick and Rick have a bet going

The first time was at a park, during a warm summer afternoon. They were coming down from an acid trip, the shapes around them having turned back to their normal colors and the extreme feelings boiling down. It was a good trip, and Roger and Syd had spent the past nine hours in that park. They still felt a little airy, as one does after the peak, but at least the trees weren’t talking to them anymore. Syd and Roger were lying down on a hill, looking up ad the various clouds, trying to give them names. Around them, fields of flowers and other landscaping glories added to the fairytale fantasy. It was around then that Syd had propped himself up on his elbows from his lying position and leaned towards Roger to kiss him. At that moment, it was okay. Their lips met, and some of Syd’s curls had poured over onto Roger’s face. Roger felt a slight shock, which Syd could tell from his initial resistance. But soon he caved, realizing how perfect the whole situation is, and how soft Syd’s face was and how gorgeous his eyes were. Afterwards, Syd snuggled closely to his friend, taking ahold of one of his arms as the sun warmed them.  
The next morning, they were gathered with the band, when Rick asked, ‘How was the trip?’ to which Roger hastily replied, ’I don’t know, I hardly remember a thing,’ Syd, of course, waited until the others left to further his query. ‘You mean, entirely nothing?’ he had asked, upset and trying his hardest not to break into tears. How could he have remembered it so well, and he completely forget? It then dawned on him that the other was probably denying it. It was 1965 after all, and what they did was criminal. But Syd couldn’t help feeling betrayed, and when he came home that day, he cried until he fell asleep.  
The second time they were at a party, weeks after the first time. Syd had somewhat forgiven Roger for the broken feelings, but he was still madly in love with him. The weeks prior were filled with suppression, and it all came crashing down again when a drunk Roger stumbled next to him, music blaring in the distance, and held onto his shoulder. Syd felt warmth grow in his chest at Roger’s touch. Then he took it further. He leaned towards his shorter friend’s ear, his large nose digging into his dark curls and touching his scalp, and said, ‘You’re gorgeous. You’re the prettiest woman I know, Syd. Please, let me fuck you,’ The words reeked with alcohol. Syd, who himself was not entirely sober, was questioning what he just heard but it was answered when Roger took him by the hand and led him outside. The cold air served as a contrast to the heat and mugginess from indoors, and the darkness hid them as they made for the house owner’s marvelous back yard. There, a pond lay, peaceful in the night, reflecting the crescent moon, and a large tree, slightly dipping it’s branches for a drink.   
Roger pinned Syd against the tree, using both his arms to grab the smaller’s wrists and raise them above his head, where he could be in control. The kiss instantly brought back memories of the first time, and Syd wanted to be angry, but at the moment he just melted. He melted right into Roger, right on that tree, where their lips met perfectly and they were so close together that they had become immune to the cold weather. Roger’s hair, now more outgrown, was beginning to flow down his neck. Syd reached a freed hand to grab it, moaning softly as Roger continued to kiss him, sending a trail down to the slight opening of his shirt, high on his chest, where he left a purple mark. Then, they turned towards the direction of the pond, and leaned against the tree, holding hands, and stared at the moon’s reflection for an hour before being interrupted by a voice telling them, ‘The cops are here, we better leave,’   
At Rick’s house, the next day, Roger and Syd saw each other again. They were preparing for a dinner with their manager to discuss something about record labels, and Rick was kind enough to host it at his house. Rick left to get food and drinks, leaving Roger and Syd on their own. Once again, Roger ‘didn’t remember a thing,’ Once again Syd questioned it, this time angrily. ‘Roger, how could you do this to me?’ ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Syd,’ ‘Yes, you do, please stop lying!’ Syd showed him the mark on his chest. ‘I can assure you that wasn’t me, Syd,’ he debated. Syd burst into tears then and there, a steady stream coming from his eyes, watering down to his lips. Roger was fighting them hard as well. He had to play it cool. ‘Please, stop doing this to me if you don’t care,’ said Syd wiping the tears with his hand. It was then that Roger couldn’t fight the tears anymore. Because he did care. He cared too much. They came, flowing like a river, just like Syd’s, and he questionably moved himself to embrace Syd, hoping he would allow it. And luckily, he did. Roger placed his head onto Syd’s, burying his wet face into his curly hair, while Syd’s hands traced along his back. Their lips met again, this time, free from substance but drunk on emotion. They could taste the other’s tears in their mouths as their wet kiss grew more and more passionate.  
Roger moved a shaking hand to the top of Syd’s shirt, fumbling as he tried to undo the buttons. ‘Oh, see, now you want me,’ said Syd, backing up to undo the buttons himself. Roger cracked a shy smile. ‘Shouldn’t we move to some place else, though?’ inquired Roger, as they both remembered they were still at their bandmate Rick’s house. ‘I can’t wait that long,’ said Syd. They both knew Rick wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. ‘Alright, then,’ replied Roger, a cunning smile cracking from his lips. He brought himself back to Syd, who was now shirtless, and ran a hand vertically down the man’s chest while kissing him, the tears from before now dried. ‘I hope this isn’t a dream,’ whispered Syd, his eyes heavily lidded as he eyed Roger. ‘Dreams don’t feel this good,’ replied Roger, who began to undo his own shirt. It was then that Syd could fully appreciate Roger’s body. His shoulders and arms were strong, although not excessively. His waist was narrow and his stomach tight to his torso, and still there was a defined shape to it. He was chiseled. That was the right word. His face, his arms and torso, even his legs, chiseled, like a marble statue. And yet, he was not too masculine. His large lips, soft and long hair and slightly curved hips gave him a feminine side, which could only be seen at this time, when he was fully revealed. For a moment, Syd just glared at him in admiration, eyeing his whole body, taking in every detail like the artist that he was. It didn’t take long for Syd to strip the rest of his own clothing, leaving them in just their undergarments. They reconnected in the middle of the room, Roger’s hands not shy as they reached Syd’s ass, holding it. Syd chuckled at the feeling, and felt himself growing harder by the moment. Roger admired Syd’s eyes, large, full of life, and gentle, like a doe. Syd had a particular androgynous charm that was hard to describe, but terribly easy to fall in love with. Roger moved his hands up to Syd’s face, running calloused fingers along the man’s jaw, tracing every centimeter to fully absorb him. This made Syd giggle. ‘That feels so nice,’ he whispered, his cheeks growing a slight shade of pink.  
They kissed again, Roger pushing his body slightly over Syd’s to guide him to the sofa behind him. Syd fell onto it, his hair bouncing as he made impact. Roger smiled as he placed his arms on either side of Syd, hovering over him as he kissed over the faded purple mark from before. The strain of lifting himself revealed Roger’s strong arms again, now the muscles bulged and the veins showed. Syd lifted an arm to run them along behind Roger, feeling the curves and hardness that made up his back. At this point, Roger moved his body closer to Syd’s so that their bare torsos were now touching. Syd’s crotch lay directly below Roger’s stomach, and Roger was quick to notice the hardness on his sensitive skin. ‘Excited?’ he teased, even though he knew Syd could feel the same hardness from Roger where his pelvis rested, on Syd’s thighs. ‘Very much so,’ Syd replied, in a flirty voice. Once again, those doe eyes shined through, and Roger couldn’t contain himself. A long hand made its way to Syd’s stomach, rubbing underneath his navel and cautiously approaching Syd’s underwear. ‘Can I?’ he asked, his hand now inches away. Syd, who had closed his eyes from the pleasure of Roger’s touch, replied ‘Yes,’ shakily. His body was full of ecstasy as his breathing increased. Roger rubbed a hand along Syd’s crotch, feeling his length through the thin cotton. He made sure to be gentle, keeping his large fingers nimble. Syd moaned a positive reply, biting his lower lip at the feeling.  
Roger then pulled Syd’s penis, now fully erect, through the side of his underwear. He held it for a moment, then slowly began moving it up and down, watching how it’s owner replied, squirming and firmly gripping the sofa’s surface. He then brought his mouth around it, wetting it as his tongue moved swiftly. ‘Holy shit, Rog,’ was all Syd could muster through his heavy breathing. The warm feeling was ridiculously good, better than any drug Syd’s tried. ‘Rog, that’s so good,’ he approved, now looking at Rog’s head and reaching to grip his hair as he felt himself approaching maximum pleasure. He moaned again, a soft hum escaping his lips as Roger took a moment to look up to Syd and kiss him on the stomach, continuing the rhythmic movement below with his hand. ‘I can’t hold on any longer,’ Syd admitted, his inhale sharp as he felt the edge. ‘Oh, god! Georgie!’ yelled Syd as he came, the fluid covering himself as well as Roger’s hand, sticky whiteness as evidence to the pleasure. ‘Wow, that was really hot,’ chuckled Roger as Syd started to regain his breath. Syd let out a tired smile, running a hand through his own hair as he felt the heat build up. Then Syd sat up, pulling Roger close for a kiss. One hand simultaneously made it’s way to Roger’s area. Syd pulled at the hem of the underwear to lower them from his lover’s pelvis. Roger had to lift himself for a moment from his seated position, just enough to bring the garment to his thighs. ‘Roger, you’re huge,’ Syd whispered into his ear as his hand took ahold of the structure. A moan escaped from Roger’s mouth, soft and vulnerable. His leg muscles tightened and relaxed, something which Syd noticed aptly. He felt a sense of power, perhaps a little bit of pride, ad being able to tame Roger, who was a bit of a control freak. Syd had always found that to be an attractive feature of Roger’s but at the moment he was focused on the power he had over Roger. He bent down from Roger’s right side to mouth his cock, bringing the structure to his mouth gently and making sure it was properly lubricated with his saliva. ‘Yes, Barrett,’ whispered Roger as his head swung backwards, facing the ceiling. Roger’s hands came out in front of him to hold the messy black mop on his head tightly. For a moment, Roger’s grip was too hard, but Syd took this as a sign that he was close. Roger began breathing harder, and his hands released his hair to hold onto the sofa by the sides, and finally, he reached the moment, his legs shaking violently as he released himself into Syd. He moaned hard, but then it diminished into a soft and pleasured hum, as his hand returned to stroke Syd’s face and hair. ‘Syd, that was... amazing,’ he said after catching his breath. Syd giggled and they both stood up, Roger pulling his underwear back up while Syd scratched his head.   
A brief moment of guilt surpassed them as they realized what they had just done on their friend’s couch. After examining it briefly, however, they found no reason for concern and started to redress themselves. Syd had buttoned up his shirt and Roger picked up his scarf, tying it around Syd’s neck. He then gave him a small peck right on the forehead. Syd went into the other room to get something to drink while Roger sat back onto the couch, spreading himself across the whole length, although the couch did not fully accommodate the length of his legs. Syd returned, with two glasses of water, and handed one to Roger. He then set the glass on the small table nearby and made himself comfortable on top of Roger, curling onto him like a cat. His hand gripped Roger’s shirt as he hummed and closed his eyes, a moment where Roger could see he was at absolute peace. Roger looked out the window and admired the meadow. ‘So nice out,’ he started, although when there was no answer Roger realized that Syd had fallen asleep. Roger stroked Syd’s hair, watching as his own breathing caused his lover’s head to move gently up and down, steadily. He gave him another soft kiss before himself falling asleep, with the warmth from Syd’s body tiring him.  
Rick returned with several bags hanging from his arms, looking like an overworked mother. Luckily, Nick had arrived to his seconds before and helped him carry the groceries and beers. ‘They didn’t let you in?’ ‘Who?’ ‘Rog and Syd, they should be here,’ ‘Oh, it’s no bother I just got here,’ Rick set down one of the six packs as he reached for his keys, unlocking the door while Nick picked up the beer behind him. ‘Anyways, I’ve got to- Oh my god!’ said Rick, although not too loudly. ‘Well, would you look at that?’ said Nick, following him in and seeing what he saw. Roger was spread out on the couch and Syd was curled up onto him, both sound asleep. ‘Shhhh,’ replied Rick, making his way into the kitchen. ‘Ha! You owe me!’ came Nick’s voice after putting down the some bags across the kitchen counter. ‘Are you sure? I mean, they could’ve just fallen asleep like that...’ replied Rick. ‘Oh, please,’ replied Nick. ‘There’s no way, that isn’t exactly what we think it is,’ he said, gesturing to where Roger and Syd were asleep. ‘Fine. How much did we say?’ asked Rick, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. ‘Ten quid,’ replied Nick. Rick fumbled for the bills and handed them to Nick, sighing in defeat. Then they both started laughing at the situation, which woke up the two lovers from their peaceful slumber.


	10. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: 1969, smut, Some parts in French (certaines parties sont en français), based off of an interview with Pink Floyd in Paris.

I watched this interview (https://youtu.be/YkUcmJ5G1X8) and then proceeded to write a whole fic from it. Some phrases are in French and I didn’t add most of the translations into the writing since they cut into the flow, but you do not need to know them to follow along. Also, the translations are below if you wish to read them. 

Forum Musiques in Paris, France on 22 January 1969.  
The band had just finished playing one of their songs when an interviewer approached them. ‘Nous allons demander au chanteur, le seul à parler français, de ses camarades de groupe, nous parler d'eux, nous les présenter,’ (We're going to ask the singer, the only one speaking french, about his band mates, talk to us about them, introduce them to us) said the interviewer, pointing a microphone at David, who was wearing a safari-type hat, long hair flowing out from underneath, and a striped, loose shirt. He pushed aside a strand of hair to better reveal his face. ‘Ils sont Nick le batteur, Rogiér, Roger le bassiste et Rick l'organiste,’ he replied to the interviewer's querry, chuckling when he had realized he said Roger’s name in French. Roger, meanwhile, hardly understood a thing, but found himself feeling some kind of warmth in his chest. He loved it when David spoke French, and now he was saying his name in French. Rogiér. The pronunciation echoed in his ears as the interview came to an end. ‘Qu'est-ce que tu vas jouer maintenant?’ ‘Saucerful of Secrets,’ ‘La chanson-titre de votre prochain album?’ ‘Oui,’ ‘Merci,’ The interviewer left the stage as the boys prepared for their next song. The eerie keyboard chords of the intro chimed in, and the slow song began. The other instruments soon joined Rick at his keyboard, building onto the chord progression with various fills. Roger eyed David from behind, his gorgeous physique showing even through his clothes. The hotel stay was surely going to be fun tonight.

Roger pinned David against the door, shutting it completely after they had entered the room. ‘Damn, someone’s desperate,’ said David, catching his breath in between Roger’s harsh kisses. ‘I was holding it in for the whole show,’ replied Roger, giving a cunning smile. ‘Speak French for me, just like you did then,’ he whispered. ‘What?’ asked David, giggling. ‘It’s so hot, you have no idea. Do it. Speak French for me,’ demanded Roger, his hands now holding David’s wrists firmly to the surface of the door to which he was bound to. ‘Eh bien, tu es magnifique,’ he said, huskily. ‘Je te veux dans mon lit! Sur-le-champ!’ he continued, making deep eye contact with Roger and then nodding his head towards the bed to translate his request. Roger kissed him in reply, pulling his body closer to David’s and then wrapping his hands around his face. Roger held onto David’s shoulders and hopped lightly, and David caught him, lifting the man and holding him. Roger’s long legs wrapped around David’s torso while David reached his arms to support Roger, firmly gripping his arse. He made his way to the bed, placing Roger gently onto his back, then leaning himself over Roger as he kissed him again. ‘Oh, mon Rogiér, tu es si belle en ce moment,’ whispered David into his ear, hoping that the sentence was simple enough for Roger to understand. He must have, since the statement caused Roger to quickly reach his hands for David’s shirt. He began working around the buttons, and David reached for the hat on his head. ‘No! Leave it on!’ protested Roger after realizing his motive. ‘What, really?’ smirked David. ‘Oui,’ replied Roger, bursting into a childish giggle. 

Roger was now on all fours, his back arched heavily as David thrusted into him rhythmically. ‘Yes, Dave, that feels so good,’ he moaned, his hands gripping tightly onto the sheets underneath him. ‘Yeah, am I good? Tu aimes ça?’ ‘Yes, oui!’ replied Roger in between heavy, lust filled breaths. David reached a hand to hold onto Roger’s hair from behind, his tight grip around the thin locks causing Roger to squeal momentarily, but soon the pain relieved. ‘Je vais jouir!’ yelled David, his excited voice indicating to Roger that he was close. Meanwhile, David’s hat managed to stay on firmly, just like Roger wanted, although it had been causing him to form a sweat around his forehead. ‘Ah, Rogiér, oui!’ he yelled, his hips shaking as he came into Roger, exasperation and pure bliss in his breathing. Hearing his name, much like before, excited Roger tremendously. Roger turned to face David, eyeing him as he rapidly touched himself. David closed his eyes momentarily as he remained kneeling and panting close to his partner. Then came Roger’s orgasmic moan as he released himself onto his stomach and the nearby sheets. David reached a hand over to rub the fluid that now covered Roger’s stomach, then proceed to lick it off his fingers as he eyed Roger mischievously. Then he lay next to Roger, wrapping one arm over his chest, hearing him pant. David, who now seemed partly asleep mumbled something under his breath. ‘What was that, Dave?’ asked Roger, taking the hat off David’s head and placing it on the nightstand. ‘Je t'aime, Rogiér,’ he restated. Roger sighed contentedly and reached a hand to stroke David’s hair. ‘I love you too, David,’

Traductions (Translations):  
‘Ils sont Nick le batteur, Rogiér, Roger le bassiste et Rick l'organiste,’ (They're Nick the drummer, ‘Rogér,’ Roger the bassist and Rick the organist)  
‘Qu'est-ce que tu vas jouer maintenant?’ ‘Saucerful of Secrets,’ ‘La chanson-titre de votre prochain album?’ ‘Oui,’ ‘Merci,’(What are you going to play now? A saucerful of secrets The title track from your next album? Yes Thank you)  
‘Eh bien, tu es magnifique,’ (You are gorgeous)  
‘Je te veux dans mon lit! Sur-le-champ!’ (I want you in my bed, now!)  
‘Oh, mon Rogiér, tu es si belle en ce moment,’ (Oh, my Roger, you look so beautiful right now)  
‘Tu aimes ça?’ (Do you like that?)  
‘Je vais jouir!’ (I am going to come!)  
‘Je t'aime, Rogiér,’ (I love you, Roger)


	11. David Gilmour / Richard Wright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: World War II, Some sad shit, Smut, Richard is a doctor and David is a soldier

Life of a World War II doctor did not bring luxury. It seemed to be safer route, when the time came to make a decision. Yet, Dr. Richard Wright’s life was seemingly turned upside down. He had been studying to become a doctor before the war, so the occupational part was not entirely different. However, war meant little time for his own life, and everything throughout the city was constantly under pressure. Soldiers roamed the streets everywhere, and nobody let their guard down for even a second. The working conditions were difficult, much different than what Richard had been trained for. The hospitals were far too crowded, beds literally stacked next to each other, each one holding a body either screaming in pain or slowly fading away. It was a horrible sight, but Richard often worked way more than he was required to. He had a good heart, and would stay for extra hours on end, trying to make each of the patient’s lives a little more bearable. This had begun to take a toll on his appearance. Scarce supplies meant less food, and although the doctor was a more prestigious job, nobody ever had a surplus. Richard’s frame was thinner than months before, his hair unkempt and growing out to a length that was unusually long for the time period. His chin was often covered by a layer of scratchy stubble.   
Richard’s sacrifices were certainly honorable and often underappreciated, although he did not care. He knew he needed to help these people, no matter the cost. One of the bigger differences in his life was how he spent his weekends. Richard used to hang around the sleazier parts, where people like him were embraced rather than criminalized. An outdated term for the places he spent his time was a ‘molly house,’ although at the time there was no specific word. People would just say ‘don’t go there,’ or ‘it’s a filthy place, shame the police can’t do more about it.’ Richard had always found himself shocked at that statement, even though he obviously never expressed that. Many a night were his encounters ruined by a police raid, the peace in the underground ruined by bodies running in every direction, hiding their faces and pulling on a pair of pants as fast as possible before running into the street, far away. Yet Richard was always keen to end those conversations with ‘yes, it’s entirely disgusting,’ hating the fact that he would have to deny his true self for his own safety. Over the years, however, that pain hurt less, and he had found ways to make excuses for never bringing a girlfriend home for family dinners at Christmas.   
Dr. Wright was just putting on his coat when the day first started growing brighter. He had arrived at the hospital at 6:00 that morning, and the cloudy and overcast weather did not do much to improve the visibility of a sleepy sky. He looked at himself in the mirror, briefly stroking his face after noticing the increasing visibility of his cheek bones when a nurse frantically burst into the room. ‘From France, there’s so many of them! We need you now!’ Her broken sentences were enough for Richard to understand. Indeed, when he reached the ward where the nurse had run to, he was shocked to see that the already overcrowded room had now two times the population. Soldiers marched in and were placing their colleague’s bodies on the floor or squeezing them into the small cots where another body already was, trying their best to make room for the injured. Richard saw a man carry another man with a broken arm, screaming in pain at every step as he clutched the faulty limb. Miraculously, the man had found an empty cot and placed his colleague there, placing a hand to his forehead in concern as he rushed to continue helping the squadron. The man continued to scream, tears running down his face and then disappearing into his unkempt beard. His hair was greasy and stuck to his sweating forehead, and his large, blue eyes were wide with terror.  
The same soldier returned, carrying another body, this one with an obvious head injury. His colleagues had done their best to wrap their friend’s head, although the blood was still pouring violently. The soldier turned to the broken-armed man and placed the bleeding man next to him on the small cot. The man, who was still crying from pain, yelled something in French to the soldier and then moved himself closer to the man with the bleeding head. ‘Help!’ he started to yell. ‘Help him! Please!’ Richard wasted no time and broke into a sprint across the room. He looked at his head injuries and quieverd at how severe they were. He had only examined him for a few seconds before already realizing there was little to no chance he would survive. He saw the blue eyed man support his friend upward with his one free hand, wincing violently in pain. Richard called for the nurses to bring him materials.  
He took a cloth, and cleaned the area around the man’s skull were the impact was. The man had a thin face and brown eyes, and the rest of his body was incredibly emaciated, which was much contrasted to his friend, who had maintained a muscular physique. Two other doctors appeared by Richard’s side, cleaning the wound and attempting their best to wrap the wound without touching the exposed brain which was partly visible. The man’s hair was buzzed very short, so it was easy to see the exposed pinkness inside. They kept grabbing materials, doing various things to his head before stopping suddenly. All three doctors looked at each other and sighed. There was simply nothing they could do. ‘Is he okay?’ asked the friend, who was still on the bed, his back resting against the wall and his face now numb from the pain. At some point a nurse had injected him with morphine, so he was no longer screaming, although even the slightest movement brought a huge wave of pain to his misaligned bone. ‘I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing we can do for him. You friend’s injuries are too great,’ Richard watched as the man’s eyes grew tears, this time not the violent ones he had before, but silent, large tears that had simultaneously caused his nose to run. ‘No!’ he protested, although he decided not to waste his friend’s last breaths fighting fate. He lifted his body best as he could towards his friend, sitting cross legged on the bed as he took the thin man’s body to his own and rested his head on his thigh. ‘They can’t do anything. I’m so sorry,’ he said, choking on tears in between as he gently swayed his torso, trying to give his friend some level of comfort before he slipped away. Richard decided to respect their privacy as he turned to face the rest of the chaos, leaving the grieving man to say goodbye to his friend.  
It took about an hour for the nurses to finally convince the man to let them take away his friend’s body. He cried as they removed him from his hold, and one of the nurses reached out to pat him on the back, but he looked terribly miserable. Richard was wrapping a patient’s finger when he saw this occurring from the other side of the room. The man’s arm bandages had been messed up so he decided to go and help him after he was done with his current patient.  
‘Hello,’ he said, offering a kind smile while approaching the soldier, whose eyes swollen from crying but his face now emotionless. The man turned his head to face Richard. ‘I’m Dr. Wright, but you can call me Richard,’ he extended an arm. The man had to reach for it using his other arm, causing a rather awkward encounter as Richard had to switch arms to accommodate. ‘I’m David,’ he said, avoiding eye contact as he introduced himself. ‘David Gilmour, and that was Roger,’ he said, now looking distantly to where the nurses had taken his friend’s body from the room. ‘I’m really, very sorry for your loss,’ said Richard, his expression genuine. David just sighed in reply. ‘Can I take a look at your bandages?’ asked the doctor, reaching out an arm. David lifted it, as slowly as he could, to avoid pain. ‘Hurts like hell,’ he mumbled. Richard unwrapped the bandages and gently touched the arm, trying to examine where exactly the fracture was. ‘OW!’ yelled the patient in reply. ‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry,’ said Dr. Wright, gently placing his arm back down. ‘Nurse! Could we get more morphine over here, please!’ he requested, his face guilty as he turned back to David. The nurse appeared almost instantly, injecting the colorless fluid into his arm as he relaxed once more. Richard continued his examination, then prompting another nurse to bring him gauze as he applied a proper cast, having found the location of the break and realigning it as best he could. David eyed the man through the whole procedure, admiring his extremely gentle nature. He deducted that this was a man who cared more for others than himself. He noticed his hair, which had grown well past his ears, and the fringe at his forehead which looked like he had cut it himself. He noticed the shy eyes and strong eyebrows, the masculine jawline and defined chin, seeing a stoic but humble figure. ‘Thank you for trying to save him,’ David said finally, his voice still crackled from the yelling before. Richard finished wrapping a layer of bandages over the gauze and simply pat the man on the shoulder reassuringly as he made his way to another patient, who had just begun shouting in pain.   
The night was long and endless for David. It seemed that nearly every five minutes someone was waking up in pain, shouting as they fought for their life or recounted terrifying memories, burned into their brains forever. This wasn’t what had bothered David the most though. He felt numb. He was recounting the feeling of Roger’s head on his thigh, when he was still breathing and still fighting. He just couldn’t believe it. He cried for a moment, but then just sat there, immune to the noises in the room as he tried desperately to wish his friend back to life. Dr. Wright, meanwhile, was still making rounds from bed to bed as the clock struck midnight. A tired sigh escaped him when he sat down on an empty chair near a patient, two cots down from where David was. ‘Do you ever sleep?’ came David’s voice, breaking the constant drone of the ward’s various groans, coughs and screams. ‘I should,’ replied Richard. ‘But all these people, they need help,’ he continued, pointing an arm to the room. The man who slept in the bed between where David and Richard were groaned, expressing his discontent at them talking. It was hard to imagine that their talking would be the thing to disrupt him, given the other, much louder sounds that buzzed in the room. Nonetheless, Richard stood up and walked over to David’s cot to continue the conversation. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gentle hand spreading across the scratchy linen while another reached up to move the hair from his face. ‘You’re too good for this world,’ said David, now making eye contact with Richard. ‘No, I’m just a good doctor,’ he said, chuckling but also remembering his sinful tendencies. ‘Well, either way, they better give you a medal when this is all over,’ ‘What am I going to do with that?’ ‘I don’t know, display it somewhere?’ ‘I don’t want a medal, I just want this to be over,’ answered Richard, at a slight whisper. David just looked to the side with a melancholy stare, nodding in agreement. ‘He was really special, your friend?’ Richard asked suddenly, hoping that the inquiry wasn’t too sensitive. ‘Yes, I’ve known him since we were children,’ replied David, his voice still holding a slight monotone as a result of the grief. ‘He was always by my side, from the day we learned how to ride a bike to the day we got our letters. Luckily we had been side by side, just by chance, up until now,’ he said. Richard noticed a tear forming in David’s eyes and moved in closer. ‘Funny, how the world works like that,’ continued David, fidgeting his good arm against the bed sheets. Richard nodded knowingly, now noticing how much better David had looked since the nurses washed him. His beard was shaved, revealing a strong jawline that surrounded a large, friendly face. His eyes were light blue, a sharp color that especially popped out in the low light. His lips were large and shaped perfectly, and his hair, now washed, revealed golden locks that came down over his forehead. He was incredibly attractive, and Richard couldn’t help his brain straying towards those thoughts as he sat near the patient. ‘How’s the arm feeling?’ asked Richard, now changing the subject after a moment of silence. ‘Well, still hurts. At least now I have this to keep it from flopping around,’ he said, slightly lifting the cast. The statement made Richard laugh. ‘Make sure not to move it about much. The bones need to be held in place until they grow back together, and it will take longer if they keep falling out of alignment,’ ‘How long will it take?’ asked David, starting at the arm. ‘It’s tough to say. I don’t expect many complications, especially since there was no open wound. I’d say four to six weeks,’ David sighed. It was already a pain to just sit without the use of one arm, but soon he would have to start moving about and getting into the groove of daily life, minus one arm. This was certainly going to be a challenge. ‘How long can I stay for?’ The way he asked that broke part of Richard’s heart. He wondered if David had anywhere else to go. ‘Well, I’d say another week, just to make sure everything is alright, and to keep you on the pain medication. Although if it gets too crowded, you may be moved somewhere else,’ ‘I hope that doesn’t happen,’ said David, revealing a cunning smile. Richard felt himself blush and then he was confused. Had he detected a flirtation or was his imagination running wild from lack of sleep? ‘Yeah,’ was all he could reply, shaking his head slightly to move his overgrown hair to cover his eyes, and perhaps the blush. David felt his heart jump when he saw that. How adorable. He hoped he didn’t make the man uncomfortable, but he sensed it in him. That thing that the masses call a disease, the thing that the general public avoided and shamed. There was a gentleness, compassion to Richard that made David sure that Dr. Wright was one of them.   
Dr. Wright did eventually go home that night at around 1:00. The streets of London were mostly empty at this time, although the occasional clacking of a horses’ hooves could be heard from the streets over. Richard undressed from his work clothes, taking off the various layers that had protected him against the frigid air. He decided to take a much needed bath. He cranked the water and was somewhat disappointed when the water ran lukewarm. The pipes in the building had been awry recently, a result of the city’s constant state of ruin from bombings. Feeling the water run, Richard remembered the piercing sound of the air raid siren, wondering how much longer till this war would be over for good. He hoped no generation of people would ever have to suffer like this again. He decided to warm up the kettle in the kitchen a couple of times and add that to his bath to raise the temperature. Having completed this, he lowered himself into the water, feeling his muscles relax for the first time in over twenty hours. His body tingled as the sensation of relief poured over him, and this feeling of comfort reminded him of the weekend extravaganzas he missed so much. He could still smell the cigarette smoke and body fragrances of the underground room, where everyone was just so accepting. He desperately wished the outside world was like those people in the club, but that fantasy was such a far stretch he couldn’t imagine what it would be like. A man with another man walking down the street, hand in hand, completely unbothered by the general public. A man going out on a date with another man, just enjoying each other’s company without fear. A man marrying a man. How wild, he thought as he ran soap along his arms.   
Then he thought about his patient David. Certainly, if he had seen a man like that at the club a couple of years ago he would’ve desperately tried to steal his heart. He tried to imagine the whole scenario in his head. Richard would walk in, and there he would see David across the room, alone by the bar. Richard would walk up to stand by his side, close enough to catch the details in his eyes as he offered to buy him a drink. Then they’d talk, who cares about what, as David’s face got redder and then Richard would take his arm and lead him to dance. They’d have so much fun, and Richard could feel David’s strong back as he wrapped his arms around it, swaying him to the beat. Later, they’d walk home, and it would be dark outside but they wouldn’t be scared because they would be together. Maybe, if they reached a darker street Richard could hold his hand, maybe even snuggle his body closer to David’s as they walked to his apartment.  
Once they got there, Richard would close the door, and finally they would be safe from the outside world. He would press David up against the wall by the door, reaching his hands on the strong man’s shoulders while David’s arms held the part of his back directly above his butt. Maybe then David’s hands would move lower, and they would press together closer, and Richard would feel- Holy shit! Richard snapped out of his fantasy, realizing his manhood had revealed itself in the bath. He felt frustration build inside him as he tried to continue washing and ignore the situation. He hurried the bath and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist, hoping to calm himself down. Eventually it subsided, and he dressed into his striped pajamas and headed to sleep, where he dreamed that night once again about David.   
He awoke and felt calmer than the night before. Remnants of his dream lingered in his head as he made coffee, the scenes of pure bliss playing over and over. How could he fall so hard for this man after only knowing him for a day? Richard couldn’t believe it. He wanted to feel shame, but at that moment, he just couldn’t wait to get to the hospital and see David’s face again. He got ready for work, running on only four hours of sleep, and headed to the hospital. ‘And how are you feeling this morning, Mr. Gilmour?’ asked Richard, his face beaming as he found his patient sitting upright and contendely, his arm still held close to his body with a sling. ‘Better,’ David replied, smiling. He could see that the heaviness in Richard’s eyes from his tiresome work the day before had subsided, and he seemed rested and just happier overall. ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘Much better after a bath and bedrest,’ he replied. ‘Oh man, I’ve forgotten how lovely those feel. These nurses have just been wiping me with wet rags. Don’t get me wrong, they do a great job, it's just not the same,’ Richard’s thoughts turned dirty again as he imagined himself bathing David, his legs spread around the man from behind, washing his back slowly. He’d lean his face to David’s from behind and ask ‘Is it warm enough?’ He stopped the thoughts before they evolved further. ‘That’s true, this must be somewhat uncomfortable,’ Richard replied, unsure of what else to say. ‘Do you think I could get something to drink?’ asked David, running his working hand along his throat. ‘It’s so dry...’ ‘Yes, of course, I’ll be right back,’ said Richard, who seemed overly willing to meet his request. David chuckled. He could’ve just asked a nurse to do it but he couldn’t help admiring Richard’s bouncy walk as he reached the end of the hall to pour him a glass of water, returning to him like a loyal dog with the glass in hand. ‘Thanks,’ replied David, taking a relieving sip. ‘Dr. Wright, we need you in the next room!’ came a nurse’s voice, and his dreamy state was soon crushed by the reality around him. He had managed to ignore the gory scene of the hospital that morning, focusing his gaze on David as soon as he walked in. Now, however, he remembered his place and got back to work, almost feeling a tinge of guilt for ignoring the other patients.   
David couldn’t help feeling euphoric as the day dragged on. He relished it as much as he could, because it seemed the only way to survive. If he was weak and started to think about Roger, the pain in his arm worsened. Instead, he thought about the way Richard had brought him that water, the way he saw him first before any other patients. It was undeniable that there was a connection, certainly a romantic one. The next few days followed a similar suit- Dr. Wright would ask David how is feeling in the morning and talk to him for a few minutes before other nurses appeared. ‘Where are you going to go after they release you?’ asked Richard one morning. ‘Well, probably to my brother Peter’s,’ ‘So nice of him to take you in,’ ‘Eh, I don’t know, he seemed kind of against it, but i suppose he took some pity on me,’ There was the chance Richard wanted. To ask him to come to his apartment, at least until his arm got better. He would’ve asked, if it wasn’t for the sudden deafening blare of the all-too-familiar air raid siren. The reaction in the hospital was instantaneous, patients, nurses, and doctors alike diving for shelter under any nearby furniture. The patients who couldn’t move were left laying there, left in the hands of fate. Dr. Wright hated that he couldn’t help them, but there were too many and simply not enough time. At any moment the whole building could collapse and it could all be over. Rick held out a hand for David to grab and pulled him under the cot with him, their heads hung low as their backs strained to fit into the small space. Three other people joined them under the cramped area, the room suddenly going dark as the power cut out. It was already getting darker outside so this added to their blindness. Then, a loud crash had come outside, deafening everyone in the room for a moment. A ringing ran through David’s head and he could swear it was their building that was collapsing. Thankfully, it hadn’t been, as a few moments later he realized he did not feel the ground move. David shuddered as he crouched himself closer together, closing his eyes out of fear. Then he felt a hand wrap around his. And then another. He opened his eyes to find Rick staring right at him, both of his hands gently holding David’s, sending the most calming feeling in the world down his spine. Amidst the darkness it was hard to make out Rick’s expression but it was all cleared when Rick brought his face right to David’s and lightly kissed him on the cheek. David couldn’t believe what he just felt. He wanted to laugh, cry, scream in joy and also kiss the doctor again, but it was all cut short when the siren had stopped and then someone yelled ‘All clear!’ Richard knew his duty after the raid. It was bound to be rambunctious in the next few hours, so he crawled out from under the bed, pulling David out. All David could do was give him a toothy smile as he watched the hard-working doctor rush to attend to the disoriented patients and prepare new beds for a crowd which would surely appear soon from the outside.   
Hours of commotion passed while David sat in his cot wishing he could help. He watched Rick’s face grow more and more tired, his movements slower and his hair messier as the night creeped along. It was around 2 in the morning when things finally settled. Thirty new patients arrived into that room that night, and there was hardly any room for Richard to even move through the crowd. Every minute someone would yell, ‘Nurse! Doctor!’ and the words became a mantra for the room. But finally, an air of peace settled over the room, and many patients had found themselves calm enough to fall asleep. It was then that Richard walked over to David. The darkness had almost caused him to trip, but he managed to arrive at the cot safely. ‘David?’ came his calming voice, as David’s closed eyes opened. ‘Oh, sorry were you asleep?’ ‘No, I was just sort of resting,’ replied David, now using his hand to sweep stray hairs from his eyes. Richard sat down on the bed, close to David. ‘About earlier...’ he tried hard to come up with a sentence, but what was he supposed to do? He saw the fear and stress in David and he just needed to kiss him. Seeing Richard struggle to piece words together led David to reach out and place his hand on Richard’s. Richard’s head shot up from the floor, looking at David, who was letting out a toothy but also lust-filled smile. Richard giggled but then hushed himself quickly, remembering not to awaken the sleeping patients. He looked around the room, and seeing that the patients were either asleep or blinded by the darkness, lifted David’s hand to kiss it. Then he leaned towards his ear and said, ‘You want to go somewhere else?’ David replied by standing up hastily. Richard led him through several corridors and then a stairwell. It was hauntingly dark in there, although this served well in concealing them.   
Richard gently wrapped his hands around David’s face, smiling greatly. ‘Can I kiss you?’ he asked, his voice hushed. ‘Please do,’ replied David, closing his eyes as Richard moved in. Their lips met, and Richard wanted to push himself closer to David but then remembered the broken arm that hung in the way. It would be terrible to ruin this moment by causing David pain, so he kept a good distance. ‘Richard, I knew it,’ came David’s voice, breaking the kiss. ‘I knew you felt it too. God, you’re gorgeous,’ he replied, now reaching us his hand to stroke Rick’s face. ‘How can something that feels so good be so wrong?’ he asked, changing the mood suddenly. Rick himself was insecure about these feelings he had, but he decided he needed to comfort David. ‘It’s not,’ he said. ‘It’s not wrong, it’s love, just like a man and a woman’s,’ he said, kissing David now on the neck. David seemed relieved by this. Richard had to ask. ‘Have you ever... been with..?’ ‘No,’ replied David, now looking shamefully onto the ground. His face was only partly illuminated by the moonlight creeping in from a distant window, but Richard could see the insecurity. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he said, caressing his jawline. ‘I’ll teach you,’   
David kissed Richard in reply to his promise, then Richard wrapped his arms around the soldier’s waist to guide him against the wall. Richard’s hand crawled underneath the hospital gown and grabbed ahold of one of David’s thighs, caressing it. The sexual energy raised and David felt a burn grow beneath his stomach. He let out a soft moan, both men remembering that they ought not to be too loud, given the echo in the stairwell and the questionable privacy. Richard’s gentle hand started to make its way higher, when it reached his underwear. Once again, David moaned, indicating that the doctor was doing a good job. ‘May I?’ he then asked, slipping a finger underneath the elastic band of his undergarment, ready to pull it down. ‘Mmhmm,’ replied David, his eyes closing as he was revealed. Richard moved his hand over David’s area, lightly grabbing ahold of what lay beneath. He couldn’t see, but he could feel his lover’s apparatus grow hard as he caressed it. His eyes were still focused on David’s, whose would occasionally close in response to pleasure. ‘Doctor, this is quite good,’ said David, giggling quietly. ‘I'll do anything to keep my patient happy,’ replied Richard, throwing a smirk to David before leaning towards him for another kiss. ‘Hopes this makes the arm feel better,’ he continued as his hand below started to move faster. ‘Oh... oh God,’ said David, straining to keep himself quiet. Then another moan escaped David’s lips, his breathing growing heavier and his lips wet from Richard’s. Richard’s breathing had also increased, mainly from his rapid hand movements but also because he himself was rather turned on, just from staring at David. He missed this so bad, yet this was entirely different. Entirely...better. Because it wasn’t some random man he’d forget about in a week, but someone who he actually grew fond of. Someone who he had helped through some of the worst days of his life. Someone who actually liked him for how he was in return... David then let out a sharp grunt and buried his face into Richard’s shoulder, literally biting into the fabric of his lab coat as he came, letting sharp exhales out of his nose and a small puddle of white fluid onto the floor. ‘Oh, my,’ he said, now moving his mouth towards Richard’s ear. ‘That was magical,’ he said. Richard turned his head and kissed David again, taking in the feeling of his nose and his stubble along his face. ‘Do you think you could...?’ started David, pointing his hand down to his underwear. ‘Of course,’ said Richard, using both his hands to raise the disabled man’s underwear back up.   
David now focused his attention to Richard’s pleasure. ‘Your turn?’ he asked, using his one good arm to rub against Richard’s chest through his coat. ‘I’d love that,’ he replied. David’s hand begun moving south. ‘You’re gonna have to unbuckle this,’ he said, his hand now over Richard’s crotch area, a couple of fingers tugging at the belt. Richard stood back and did as instructed, pulling his pants down just enough to reveal his underwear. He pushed the draping parts of his coat off to the side and moved back toward David, and then they touched foreheads and just stood there as David tried to recreate Richard’s hand movements on Richard himself. ‘Pretty good for an amatuer,’ said Richard, his eyes closed. David chuckled and continued, his eyes focused below although his vision was obscured. Richard brought his hands to hold onto David’s shoulders, thrusting himself lightly at David’s hard-working hand. ‘Oh, Davy,’ he whispered. Their foreheads were still connected until Richard threw his head back, the feeling of the orgasm taking him over like a strong drug. He backed up for a second to avoid spilling anything on David’s gown, although his arms were extended and still holding onto his shoulders. Afterwards they embraced and stood there, not saying anything but at the same time having the deepest of conversations. Richard adjusted his clothing and led him back out into the hallway. ‘Listen you said earlier that your brother might not have room for you?’ he started, looking to see David’s eyes grow hopeful. God, there was that feeling again. Seeing someone grow happy because of him is what kept him alive. ‘Yeah?’ replied David, holding back a premature smile. ‘Why don’t you come stay at mine?’ David wanted to jump in the halls like a child on Christmas but instead he answered with a ‘Yes! Of course, if it’s not too much of a bother...’ ‘Quite the opposite,’ replied Richard, bringing him into a kiss even though they were exposed. They held hands as they made their way back to the ward.


	12. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: Fluffy, Living in Stanhope Gardens, 1966

The boys were gathered on a hardwood floor in the center of their flat. Roger was the first to have moved in, around 1963, with Nick. The flat was owned by their friend, Mark Leonard, who was always kind enough to decrease their rent as they struggled to make ends meet with their still unsuccessful band. Soon, Syd moved into town for college and shortly after joining the band, moved in with them, followed by Rick. It was a large, Victorian styled place, which reserved a certain beauty despite being trashed by countless college students before them. It was the end of a long semester of architectural studies and so they decided to unwind with a few too many beers and a game of Truth or Dare.  
“Roger,” came Rick’s voice. “Truth or Dare?”  
“Dare,”  
“Lick the floor,”  
“Oh, c’mon, Rick,”  
“You have to do it,”  
Reluctantly, Roger leaned over and took one long lick of the floor, pieces of dust sticking to his tongue as he ran to the sink to wash it off.  
“Good one, Rick,” said Nick, as the rest of them started laughing.  
“Alright, enough of that,” said Roger, now returning to the floor where they were seated.  
“Nick, truth or dare?” asked Roger, his face still disgusted.  
“Truth,”  
“If you could trade lives with someone here, who would it be?”  
“Oh shit, Rog,” he started, looking around. “That’s a hard one,”  
He pondered for a moment.  
“Syd,” he replied.  
“Oh, alright,” answered Roger, seemingly jealous that Nick had not chosen him.  
Rick and Syd chuckled as they noticed this. Roger then took another swig of his beer, still trying to rid the taste of the dirty floor.  
“Rick,” said Nick, turning to face the keyboardist.  
“Truth or Dare?”  
“Dare,” he said, for the first time that night.  
Nick thought for a moment, then chuckled.  
“Show us your best moves,”  
“Oh, golly,” said Rick, standing up as best he could, the beer in his system altering his coordination greatly. Nick started tapping the floor to a beat as Syd clapped his hands. Rick tried his best to come up with something for the beat, which had been tragically uneven as a result of their drunkenness.  
“Alright, alright, that’s good enough,” said Nick, all of them laughing so hard their faces were red. Rick sat back down, a look of displeasure across his face.  
“Syd, truth or dare?”  
Syd pondered for a moment.  
“I’ll go with truth,” he answered, hoping it would be the safer route.  
“You ever kiss a guy?” asked, Rick, a smile cracking at his lips. Nick’s eyebrows raised as the room grew ever so slightly tense. Roger looked Syd dead in the eyes then turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed.  
“What? No, of course not. Do I come across like that?” he asked, the shock in his voice artificial.  
Rick chuckled.  
“All right, then,”  
“Rick, you really think so?” Syd continued.  
“No, man, it’s just a game,” answered Rick, now noticing how flustered Syd had gotten.  
“Don’t get too worked up over it, sheesh,” he continued, patting Syd’s shoulder. Syd then let out a faint chuckle.  
“Yeah, I’ve kissed a guy,” he said suddenly, sucking the air right out of the whole room. Roger looked at Syd with wide eyes, telepathically saying, ‘Don’t you dare,’  
“Oh shit!” said Nick, his eyes widening as he laughed.  
“Knew it,” said Rick. Roger then joined their laughter, fearing one of them would notice how stressed he was.  
“Care to elaborate, Syd?” asked Rick, his eyebrows raised.  
“Nope,” he replied, raising his chin and giving a sly smirk.  
“Fine,”  
Syd turned his gaze to Nick.  
“Truth or dare?”  
“Dare,”  
“Go sprinkle some salt on your tounge,”  
“Fuck,” said Nick, standing up to get the salt shaker from the kitchen.  
He came back and sat on the ground, the salt shaker held above his tounge as he took a deep breath and sprinkled.  
“That’s good enough,”  
He swallowed it, the pain in his face clear as the salt when down his throat. He gagged but managed to swallow all of it.  
“Jesus, Syd, that was disgusting,” he said, his voice all crackled as he still tried to digest the taste. He took a sip of his beer hoping to wash it down.  
Rick and Roger, meanwhile, were laughing their asses off.  
“You fucking killed him, man,” said Roger, looking to Syd, laughing. Then, their smiles faded and a brief moment of eye contact between them lingered, their heads still processing the question Syd had answered before.  
“Oh god,” said Nick, still recovering.  
“Roger, truth or dare?”  
“Truth,”  
“Who’d you have a crush on, at the moment?”  
Roger was struck dumb for a moment. He instinctively looked at Syd as he tried to come up with a name.  
“There’s this girl in my maths class,” he answered, lying terribly.  
“What’s her name?” asked Nick, his eyes heavy from the drink.  
“Um, Sally,” he said, literally pulling the name out of nowhere.  
“Wait, which one is she?” chimed in Rick. Shit, thought Roger. He forgot Rick was in that class with him.  
“She sits at the front,” he said, hoping Rick would avoid further questions. “Brown hair, glasses,”  
“Oh, right, of course,” said Rick, in an unusual tone. Roger couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, pretending to know her, or is he was just really drunk.  
“Aw, isn’t that adorable,” said Nick leaning over.  
“Rog’s got a little classroom romance,”  
“Oh, shut up,” said Roger, pushing Nick away from him.  
He then looked to Syd, who had hardly reacted to the whole situation. His eyes said ‘Forgive me,’ but also ‘You know I like you,’ Syd tried to hide his smile as he looked down to the floor.  
\---  
After several more embarrassing feats, the game finally ended. Nick was nearly passed out on the floor, and Roger had gotten up to go to his room. Syd and Rick picked up the beer bottles and brought them to the kitchen.  
“So,” started Rick, his tone and body language indicated he was about to ask something uncomfortable.  
“Syd, um, are you gay?” he said, quite plainly. The question caught Syd off guard as he dropped the beer bottles into the trash loudly.  
“Uh...” he held for a moment.  
“Cause it’s okay if you are, I just want to know,”  
“No, Rick. You know I’ve had girlfriends,”  
“That doesn’t mean you’re not gay,” he continued, his words stern but his face a soft and gentle contrast, showing a genuine interest rather than intrusive questioning.  
“Here’s the thing Rick, I don’t know. I’ve never thought it was completely out of the question,”  
“That’s okay, Syd,”  
“Do I seem like I am?”  
“Just a bit,”  
“Huh,” he answered, leaning against the kitchen counter.  
“Alright, well I’m off to bed,” started Rick. Then he walked up to Syd.  
“If you ever want to talk or whatever, I’m here,”  
“Thanks, Rick,” he said, grateful at his friend’s acceptance and kind offering.  
He stayed there for a moment, looking out the window before retreating to the main room, where Nick had fallen asleep, spread across the floor. Syd chuckled before bending down to shake him awake.  
“C’mon, Nick let’s get you to bed,”  
“Wha- what?”  
“Let’s go,” said Syd, offering a hand and pulling up his friend to stand as best he could. He walked Nick to his room and shut the door behind him as he saw Nick fall onto the mattress fully clothed.  
\---  
Syd stood in the hallway motionless for a moment before making his way to Roger’s room. He knocked gently on the door.  
“Can I come in?” he asked, shyly opeinng the door.  
“Yeah,” answered Roger, who had already changed and was underneath the sheets.  
“Oh, darling, you look so adorable right now,” said Syd, letting out a girly chuckle.  
Roger returned the smile, although his gaze then wandered off to the side.  
“Look, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier,” said Syd, now making his way to sit on the edge of the bed.  
Roger let out a sigh before starting.  
“Why’d you tell them?”  
“Rog, they’re out friends. And you know they’re fine with it. Remember that time at David’s house? There were those two guys, and they didn’t-”  
“That’s not the point,”  
“Then what is?”  
“I just don’t want to be seen that way, not by them,”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I’m not comfortable with being known as a queer,”  
The sentence shocked Syd, but perhaps not as much as it should’ve. Roger had always been insecure about the fling they were having; their first kiss had been nothing short of completely awkward and uncomfortable.  
Syd then crawled his way to where Roger was, laying next to him as he put a hand on Roger’s chest.  
“I’m sorry,”  
“No, Syd, don’t be. I admire your openness. I just wish I could be the same,”  
“Rog, that doesn’t matter. Tell them when you’re ready. Or don’t tell them ever. It’s your life, you don’t have to do or be anything you don’t want to,”  
Syd’s wise words calmed Roger immensely. His shoulders relaxed, the tenseness in his arms released as he snuggled closer to Syd.  
“You know, Rick asked me if I was gay in the kitchen just a few minutes ago,” started Syd. Roger waited for Syd to continue.  
“I told him maybe, and then he said it was fine. Then he even said I could talk to him if I wanted to,”  
“He really is the nicest,” said Roger, reaching a hand to place on top of Syd’s.  
“He really is,”  
They lay like that for a moment before Roger leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met and Syd brought the hand from Roger’s chest to his hair, burying it into the thin locks as Roger kissed him deeper.  
“There is no better feeling than this,” said Roger, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead to touch Syd’s.  
“There really isn’t” agreed Syd, as they continued to lay there, wandering into their own dreams as the sun started to rise.


	13. Roger Waters / Richard Wright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Where Rick works at a fancy restaurant, London 1970, soft and smutty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently found out that people actually ship this pairing, I think some people call it ‘Wrighters.’ Anyways, I fucking love it, so I just had to write a fic.

A busy night was testing the patience of various waiters at Seven Park Place. The atmosphere of the dining room was calm, the mood set by a small band of jazz musicians, low lighting, and various delicious French-styled meals being served to the esteemed customers. Yet behind the kitchen’s doors, chefs were running around, sweating from the heat of the stoves and the bright white lights which starkly contrasted the ones in the dining room. “I need more meat here!” yelled one chef, turning his back to a younger trainee who quickly obeyed his request, walking quickly to the fridge. Another stove came to life, the fire blazing largely at first then settling as a chef threw various foods onto it. In the corner stood a young man by the name of Richard Wright who was fueled by excitement at his promotion to a waiter, but nonetheless overwhelmed by the constant demand of the kitchen staff and customers.   
“What are you doing standing around?” came the demanding voice of one of the managers as he walked furiously towards Richard, who instinctevely curled up in a defensive position, aware that corporal punishment was not out of the question. “Sorry, I was just-” “Just what? There’s no time for this Rick!” Rick shly brushed aside his hair, as he ran towards the kitchen to pick up a plate that needed delivering. His hair was much longer than it should’ve been, especially for the waiter of a fancy restaurant, but the restaurant's owner was especially nice and since Rick typically kept it neat, he allowed him to sport his rock n’ roll look. Having picked up the dish and read which table it was for, Rick quickly exited the kitchen, keen to keep his eyes away from the manager’s, who were still focused on him.  
“Anything else I can do for you, folks?” asked Richard after delivering the plate to an old couple dressed in highly fashionable clothes. “No, thank you,” said the lady politely, offering him a consoling smile. Rick hurried away to the bar, where he met with his friend, a man they called Syd, who worked at the bar. “Fuck this,” he mumbled as he approached his friend from the other end of the table. “It’s crazy, man,” answered Syd, with three glasses in hand, trying as quickly as possible to fill them with vodka before mixing them with some fruity juice. “I’ve dropped like, three glasses today. If they want us to work efficiently, they should stop yelling at us all the time!” he continued in frustration as he firmly placed a glass on the counter. “Yeah, they’ve all got sticks up their asses,” laughed Rick, causing Syd to also laugh. “What’s this gentlemen?” came a stern voice from behind. They turned to find one of the older waiters giving them a stern look. “Are you paid to frolic?” he asked, leaving a long pause for them to answer, but wisely, refused to. “Get back to work!” he then yelled, taking the rag from his pocket and giving Rick a good smack on the top of his head. Rick gave Syd a sorrowful look before he hurried back into the kitchen.   
At around nine, things finally started to calm down. Rick was making another trip to the kitchen when a waiter stopped him. He held onto the top of Rick’s black vest with a tight grip. “Take care of table seven,” he said, pointing his head in the direction. Rick looked over and saw that the customer had just arrived, taking off his long trench coat to reveal his long and thin arms. A waitress took the coat from him to hang while he made himself comfortable. His tall frame caused his legs to stretch to the other side of the two person table, where a vacant spot remained. His hair was long, and like Rick’s had bangs at the front. Rick grabbed a menu and headed over, pen in hand. “Good evening. My name is Richard, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Anything I can get you to drink?” The man looked up to him and smiled. “Well, Richard, what would you suggest?” he asked, a cunning smile appearing at his lips. Richard couldn’t help but think of how villainous this man looked, with his thin frame and face, bangs partly hiding his small eyes, and a demeanor which was almost too cool to be comfortable around. It was like the man had owned the place, yet Rick could tell from his clothing that he did not visit these types of restaurants often. “Um, well, what about this red wine?” he asked, holding the menu out to him and pointing to the Chateau Busquet. “Red wine? That sounds lovely,” he said, the cunning smile returning. Rick left the table to retreat the man’s request.   
“Oi, Syd, you have any idea who that is?” he said, pointing towards table seven as he approached the bartender. “No clue,” he said, looking out. “Peculiar fellow,” said Rick. “Anyways, I need the Chateau Busquet. Just a glass,” Syd poured him the drink and Rick placed it on a small silver tray, his posture straightening as he carried the glass to the table. The man had taken out a cigarette and took a long drag before saying “Thank you,” Rick hurried to the kitchen to take two more orders from the surrounding tables while the man’s face lingered in his head. A peculiar fellow. That was really the only way to describe him. He brought a cooked fish to a couple then retreated his notepad to take table seven’s order.   
The man had ordered a small dish, the soup of the day. About five minutes after ordering, Rick took some cutlery and a small plate to bring to the man’s table in preparation for his food. He approached on his side, placing the plate in the middle, then reached over to place the fork on his left, placing on hand onto the table’s surface. It was then he felt another hand on top of his own. He realized it was the man’s, whose face was now leaned closer to Rick’s. “My name’s Roger,” he said. Rick was shocked and felt an electric jolt go down his back. He chuckled in reply, unsure of how to reply, then scurried away from the table to the bar. He approached Syd, who was facing the other way, sneaking a drink from the supply as he always did. “Hey! Syd!” he said, leaning over to the other side of the bar. Syd stood up quickly. “Jeez, you scared me for a second,” he said, placing his used shot glass into the sink. “Listen, the weirdest thing just happened,” Syd nodded in reply. “That geezer we talked about, table seven? He just- he just held my hand. When I was putting down the silverware. He just touched it. Then he told me his name,” Syd starting laughing while Rick kept his serious demeanor. “That is pretty fucking weird,” he said, in between chuckles. It was then that Rick noticed his friend might’ve gotten a bit tipsy. “Oi, take it slow, we still have three hours before closing,” he said, although he wasn’t entirely concerned. Syd had become a master of hiding his behind-the-bar alcohol consumption.   
Midnight finally rolled around the clock and a wave of relief washed over the overworked staff. The last customer finished her drink and made her way for the door, and several waiters and busboys flooded out to clean the tables. Rick reached table seven, picking up the ashtray and dumping it onto a plate. He remembered that some of the ashes in that mix were Roger’s. Rick stared off for a moment, remembering all the weird passes the man had made at him that night. Rick still couldn’t tell if it was flirting or not. It couldn’t have been, right? No, that would be so absurd. He tried to deny it, but at the back of his head, he knew for sure exactly what Roger was doing. With everyone’s efforts, the dining room was cleaned quickly. “Good job tonight, everyone,” said the boss, now appearing from a door at the side. “It was busy but you all handled yourselves well. Good night,” he smiled at Rick, who smiled back and humbly bowed his head for a second.   
Rick placed a few used towels in a basket at the back of the kitchen. Syd approached him then, placing a hand on his shoulder. The stench of various alcoholic beverages lingered on his breath. Judging from how he was standing, Rick could tell he was at least a bit drunk. “That was a nightmare,” he said. “I think my feet have gone numb from standing for so long,” “Oh yeah? Try running around with the combined weight of ceramic plates and food in one hand,” he replied, both of them breaking into laughter. “Seriously, though. They could give us more breaks,” continued Rick. “Ricky, listen, I’m fucking drained, and I’ve been doing some taste testing at the bar, so, I say, fuck it! You want to go get wasted somewhere?” His offer was incredibly enticing, but Rick had to deny. He knew he was tired and he just desperately wanted to be in bed. He also knew he had obligations in the morning and couldn’t risk being hungover. “That’s all right, then,” said Syd, patting Rick’s back. “See you tomorrow!” he said as he swaggered out with a certain pop to his walk which confirmed Rick’s theory about his friend’s drunkenness.   
Rick was one of the last to leave. When he stepped outside, the cool air hit his face and he found it extremely pleasing. He stood for a moment and took a deep breath before heading to his flat, about a mile and a half from the restaurant. He turned the corner from the alley to the main road when he caught the silhouette of a familiar figure. There stood Roger, his body leaned against a nearby store’s wall. A cigarette hung from his lips, creeping closer to his face as he looked out to the distance. Rick hadn’t noticed before how tall the man was, although it might have been just an illusion of his long jacket and long hair. Walking closer, he realized the man was in fact tall. Then he stopped. He pondered turning around and heading the other way, although the chance was ruined when the figure turned to him. “Richard!” said the voice, in a tone that was too casual for someone he had just met. Rick froze but then offered a smile. “Mr. Roger? How are you?” he decided not to be rude, although the entire situation was greatly creeping him out.  
“They really keep you there for long, don’t they?” he said then, looking at his watch as some of the ash from this cigarette dripped down. “Do you want a smoke?” he then said, reaching for his coat pocket. Rick really did want a smoke, so he agreed. The silence was awkward for a moment. Rick had never been one to keep a conversation going, and now with the uncertainty and slight creepiness of the situation, he was even more quiet. “I saw one of those bastards whack you across the head,” he said, referring to a time when Rick had forgotten to bring a new table their plates earlier in the night. One of Roger’s hands moved so that it seemed he wanted to caress the part of Rick’s head, but then it froze and he retreated the hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, sir,” he then said. “It’s just stupid how they treat. They all think their so entitled, just because they work at a nice restaurant and because their old. But they’re all just pigs,” he said, the accusatory tone in his voice slightly alarming Rick. RRick, however, couldn’t deny that he agreed with the man’s statement, so he nodded his head and kept himself engaged in the conversation.   
The exchange continued for a good ten minutes. Roger had explained to Rick that he was a writer, one who was trying to subtly point out the corruption present in both small and large companies and how they abuse the working class. “It’s just a personal project I’ve been working on for some time,” he said. “My other novels are quite mundane,” “What sort of stuff do you write?” “Fictional stories, typically with a sort of anti-hero as the main character. Hard to explain it without going into depth, though,” he said, casually exhaling the cigarette, creating an environment of mystery for a moment. Rick chuckled then. He couldn’t believe he was still here, talking to this man he slightly feared a few hours ago. It was then he realized he should probably get home to his cat. He dropped the cigarette butt to extinguish it, then raised himself from the building’s wall. “I ought to get going,” he said to Roger. He started walking, but was shortly cut off. “Wait!” said Roger, following the few steps he made. Rick could now see in his face a certain nervousness, one which seemed very out of character with the cool and uncaring character he presented earlier. In that one brief look, his suspicions from the restaurant were confirmed. “I, um- I was wondering if- if maybe-” he wasn’t able to put his query into words, but made up for it but reaching to take Rick’s hand into his own, running the slender fingers over the top where Rick’s veins protruded. He felt the same electric shock go down his spine, as well as a soft feeling in his center. What was this? He didn’t know how to react so he shook his hand free. “I don’t know what- No, no, I’m sorry sir,” he said, turning and quickening his pace once more.  
But Roger was an adamant man. Rick now moved into the shadow of the street, hearing the footsteps approaching once again. Now, they were hidden from the streetlights. “What?” came Rick’s voice, stopping Roger in his tracks. “Richard, you’re, how do I put this? You are gorgeous- yes, gorgeous,” he whispered. Rick then turned to the man, his eyes softening from their stern expression. He stepped closer to the tall man, bringing his face closer. They kissed, and it was gentle and short-lived. When they pulled apart there was a brief silence before Roger said ‘Wow,’ and then Rick replying with ‘Wow,’ Rick’s eyebrows knitted into a questioning glare as he looked off to the side, but then they softened as he faced Roger again. “You want to come to mine? It’s close,” he then blurted out, hardly realizing what he was saying until it was too late.   
The walk was mostly silent and certainly awkward but when they made it inside, the warmth brought their feelings back to them. “You have a lovely home,” said Roger, making himself comfortable on the couch. Rick’s cat walked up to him and curled onto his lap. Roger chuckled. “How adorable she is!” he said, petting the cat’s head. Rick took off his coat then offered the man something to drink. “Tea?” he asked. “You have anything... else?” he asked, the tone making his intentions clear. Rick chuckled and retrieved two beers from his fridge, bringing them to Roger as he sat on the couch next to him. They made brief eye contact and chuckled, looking away like some young teenagers dealing with their first romance.  
Then Roger moved himself closer to Rick. His cat jumped from the man’s stomach onto the ground, scurrying away into the dark. “Didn’t meant to scare her,” he said, his eyes following the cat but then coming back to Rick’s. “Listen, Rick-” But before he could say anything, Rick pulled his shirt’s collar and brought the hard, long face to his own, kissing the man’s voluminous lips with force. He heard a soft noise come from Roger, indicating pleasure. Roger placed a hand on Rick’s thigh then, a firm grip causing Rick to shudder gently. He placed a hand on Roger’s chest in return. It was then that he felt Roger’s hand move up and down, and then slowly towards his crotch. He instinctively backed away then, breaking the kiss. “Something, wrong? I’m sorry, dear-” “No, no it’s just- I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. “Let’s try again?” Rick then said, returning to the previous spot. “Of course,” said Roger, this time reaching both his hands to place onto Rick’s shoulders, wrapping them into a loose hug as he kissed him.   
It was obvious that a faint feeling of uncertainty lingered in the room, especially in Rick’s head. He was with a complete stranger, a male stranger, on a Saturday night after one of the most stressful days at work. He didn’t even have the faintest idea what time it was, and was too scared to check. But at that moment, his worries vanished as Roger hovered over him, kissing his chest as his arms pinned Rick into the mattress. Almost all their clothing was scattered on the floor, save their underwear, which had become significantly tighter on both the men’s hips. “Is this okay?” asked Roger, now taking a break and looking up to Rick. “Yes, it’s wonderful,” he said, chuckling. Roger moved back up to his face to kiss him, resting his body onto Rick’s torso. Roger’s hair fell onto Rick’s face, covering them both as the kiss proceeded to deepen.   
Roger the lifted himself above Rick again, sitting onto his thighs. He teasingly traced patterns onto Rick’s stomach with his fingers before reaching his crotch again. Roger could see the outline of his cock, which was undoubtedly erect. “Richard, can I touch you?” he asked, his hand hovering above Rick’s underwear. “You can say no,” “No, Rog, I want you to do it. Please. Touch me. Touch my cock,” the many desperate requests caused Roger to chuckle mischievously as he put his hand onto his underwear, feeling the hard appendage through the underwear. His hands nimbly worked around it, feeling every part as Rick sharply exhaled and squirmed in pleasure. “Good?” asked Roger, making eye contact with Rick. “Yes, Roger, so good. What are you going to do next?” he asked. Roger couldn’t help pick up a faint trace of fear in Rick’s voice. “Whatever you are okay with,” he answered, trying to calm the man. “Could you- would you... put your mouth around it?” he asked, shyly. Roger chuckled again, “Yes, of course I can,” he said, continuing to rub it with his hand. Then, he raised a hand to brush his hair behind his ear. He brought his hands back to the man’s underwear, pulling out his cock from the side, stroking it. Rick let out a loud moan. Then Roger leaned down and finally put his mouth around it, just as requested.   
“Oh, Roger,” said Rick, his hands now gripping onto the bed sheets. The feeling of Roger’s body weight on his thighs somehow added to the pleasure, and he felt himself quickly approaching an orgasm. It was then Roger removed him mouth and held Rick’s cock in his hand again, jerking it quickly. He saw Rick’s eyes tightly shut as he let out a high-pitched groan, breathing quickly. The white fluid streamed out from his cock, covering Roger’s hand as well as Rick’s stomach. “Oh, god,” said Rick, now opening his eyes to face Roger. “Too good, that was too good,” he chuckled. Roger came to lie beside him then, propping up his head with his elbow as he looked Rick in the eyes. He took one long finger and started tracing random patterns on Rick’s stomach again, causing Rick to chuckle gently. Then he leaned in closer to Roger, taking a hand to rub it along the man’s thin but defined toso. “And what should we do with you?” he said, eyeing his body. Roger chuckled as Rick pushed him gently to lie back into the mattress.  
Rick traced kisses along Roger’s chest, making his way down to where his underwear are. “Alright with this?” he asked, a finger holding on the hem of the underwear. “Yes, of course,” said Roger, squirming at the feeling of Rick’s fingers. Rick pulled them down just enough to reveal Roger’s length. It was, to say the least, greater than Rick had expected. His stroked it a few times before bringing it to his mouth, just as Roger had before. He sucked slowly and moved his head up and down. Rick felt Roger’s long fingers intertwined with his hair then, pulling gently at his long locks. “That’s good, Richard. Very good,” he said in between sharp breaths. Rick quickened his pace in response to Roger’s ever-tightening grip. Rick’s hand ran alongside the inside of Roger’s thigh. Then he felt the muscles of the man’s cock spasm, as he quickly removed his mouth to let the fluid stream onto Roger’s stomach. “Shit, Richard, you’re practically a professional,” he said, weakly laughing. “Really,” he asked, crawling over to lie on Roger’s chest. “I’ve never done that before,” he said. “Well, it was good,” said Roger, running his hands through Rick’s hair. They lied there for more silent moments before Rick chimed in. “This is one hell of a Saturday night,” he said, laughing. Roger joined in as they held each other tighter.


	14. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: drug use, a bit sad but it ends well, no smut

George Roger Waters. Most people called him Roger, including David. Except for when they were in secret. Then he called him Georgie. But of course, others did not know that. Their relationship could be considered rocky to most. Often did the two of them break out into nasty quarrels over musical decisions and it typically did not end well. But what the rest of the band didn’t know was that part of the tension arises from another ordeal- the fact that Roger and David had an ongoing ‘fling’ (for lack of a better word), that would sometimes get mixed up with their work in the studio. Many a night did the two end up in bed, calming their dispute with a night of passionate sex. But the guitarist always wanted more from Roger. David desperately wanted Roger to love him, but he was unsure Roger was capable of it.

Turning to cocaine was not the right decision, David soon found. On one stormy night in the studio, while the others had gone out of the room for a moment, David took out his baggie and neatly organized a small amount into a couple of lines on the main table of the room. He took one sharp inhale of the blow, rubbing his nose and taking a break as he waited for the high to hit him. He was about to go for another when he heard rapid footsteps approaching him. “Are you fucking mad?” said the accusatory voice. David felt his lover’s strong hand grab onto the collar of his shirt. “David! Look at me!” Roger’s voice was a hushed yell. “This stuff will kill you! How long has this been going on for?” David was in a haze, his eyes wide as his concentration was immensely focused Roger’s speaking, although not so much on the words as his lips. “Only a couple of weeks,” he replied, delayed. “David, do you think this is a joke!” Roger then let go of David, which saddened him. He stood there for a moment, hand on his head before they were interrupted by footsteps. “Fucking hide it!” he yelled, picking up some stray papers from the floor to cover the powdered table’s surface.

They was halfway through a track when Gilmour messed up his solo. “It’s okay, try again,” said one of the technicians. David tried but once again failed. He could see Roger’s piercing eyes from the corner. _Look at what you’ve done to yourself,_ he could telepathically hear him say. He was frustrated, not only from the guitar, but at himself. He figured it was only a matter of time before Roger ended their relationship, whatever that relationship was, and now he had good reason to. Finally, the solo was done correctly, although David was far from relieved. Roger had left the room sometime between his playing, which further worried David.

His high came down shortly after and David, now emotionally vulnerable, found himself craving more. He pondered taking a break to the bathroom, but something inside him held him back. _Stop, stop for Georgie._ He realized then how much he cared about Roger, although he knew Roger didn’t care about him nearly as much.

The recording finally ended and David remembered he had to stay behind to clean the table. He lingered around until the last technician left, which was around 1 in the morning. “Don’t forget to turn the lights out,” he said as he walked out, closing the door behind him. David rushed to the table where he scooped up the powder. He thought about putting it back into his bag, or even using it since it was already out. _No, I don’t need it._ He walked to the studio’s bathroom and sprinkled the powder into the toilet, gazing at it for a moment before flushing it. He wiped the table down with a towel and left then.

It was right outside the studio where David found Roger, leaned against the brick wall with a cigarette in his mouth. “Rog-” “David, you need to stop this now,” came his voice, in its usual alpha-male tone. “We can’t mess up now, our band’s doing so well,” Ah, so it was only the band he cared about. Not his health. Not his sanity. “I know, Rog,” he replied, his voice sad. “I cleaned the stuff off the studio table and flushed it,” Roger replied with a nod. David could never read Roger’s emotions, and it killed him. This whole situation killed him. “Come to mine tonight, alright?” said Roger, almost monotone as he dropped the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to extinguish it. He turned to David and let out a smile, finally taking off the mask he wore seemingly all the time. Then he hurried to his car, leaving David alone in the dim light.

David arrived as planned. It must’ve been nearly two now, although it wasn’t late by their standard. They were used to late hours at the studio. They were used to even later hours together. As soon as he opened the door, Roger’s arms took him into his own, closing the door harshly as Roger began planting kisses on David. “It’s been a week- a week too long,” he said, giggling as he kissed David’s chin. David couldn’t help but smile back. It was Roger’s vulnerable moments like these that brought him joy. Whenever he finally let go of that stern character, David felt at peace. But he was still bothered. He returned the kisses, but they were weak.

“What’s wrong, Dave?” said Roger, who had begun unbuttoning David’s shirt but felt the lack of responsiveness. “Are you still mad?” he asked, now backing away. “Dave- look, I’m mad because I can’t believe you’d turn to that. But every big shot does it at some point, right? Let’s not worry about that right now, I just want you right now,” he said, his voice husky at the last statement. But David did not give in to Roger’s request. “Rog, there is a reason. Well, there are many reasons, but one big reason, for why I did that,” He watched Roger’s face go from aroused to serious in a matter of seconds. “Okay, sit down,” he said, pointing to the couch. He knew David needed to talk and although he wasn’t great with feelings, he was willing to do it for David. Because David didn’t know how much Roger loved him.

He sat down beside the guitarist, offering him a cup of tea. David took it, but continued to stare at the floor. “Is- is it about us?” asked Roger, fearing the worst. Perhaps the drugs got the best of David, and perhaps he was thinking about ending what they had. “Yes,” replied David, taking a sip. He turned to Roger. “Georgie- this is all wrong. Why do we even do this? To get rid of the anger we build up in the studio? It’s not healthy,” he said. Roger felt the aggression build up inside him. _And doing cocaine is?_ He wanted to retaliate, but refused to. Instead he placed a gentle hand on David’s leg. “Why do we do this?” repeated Roger, the sympathy in his eyes increasing. “Because I love you, David,” he said.

David felt his heart drop. A whole wave of varying emotions swept over him. _Does he mean it? Why didn’t he say it earlier? Oh my god, he loves me._ David couldn’t help turning to Roger and giving him a hard kiss on the lips. The other was slightly surprised at his quick movement but gave in, feeling the large, plump lips against his own was familiar and all the same alien. David could swear that in that moment, all of the anger, confusion, and doubt that had built up inside him in the past few months was cleaned out of every cell in his body. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that all those nights, Roger had meant something more. He had such a way of hiding his feelings, David was almost positive that it was just meaningless sex all along. But right now, in this moment, none of his worries mattered. Because George Roger Waters loved him, and that was all he needed to know.


	15. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: Smutty, 1973 on tour, Roger and David are together, but Roger starts to get a little friendly with one of the pretty groupies after a show, and David sees this and gets all upset so Roger tries to apologize and make it up to him back at the hotel room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during a class on morality. Ironic.

For Pinkflcyd -

The lights went out and so another show was over. The members of the Pink Floyd made their way backstage, sweat dripping off their tired bodies as they tried to find something to refuel with. A small room was prepared for them; inside it there were beverages of all kinds as well as other treats they were surprised to find. “They gave us weed?” asked David, laughing as he picked up a paper bag and sniffed it. “This is incredible!” he said, as all of them started laughing. He turned the bag over to find a note in sharpie. _Hope you like this XOXO._ “Any idea who this could’ve been?” asked David, showing Roger the message. He read the message then shrugged. “Who cares, let’s smoke!” replied Roger, reaching into his pocket for a lighter.

“God damn, I can’t believe we just did that,” said Rick, who lay on the couch lazily with his limbs spread in every direction. “I’m fucking baked,” said Nick, his eyes even more squinted then they had been after his first three beers. They heard a knock on the door. In came Storm Thorgerson, with two girls on each of his shoulders, as well as a small crowd behind him. “Brought some company,” he said. The smell from the room hit him and he started laughing. “Hey! You better share that,” he said, now entering the room as the crowd followed him. Many of the girls wore shirts which exposed them and acted flirty, their intentions obvious as they spread into the room, each going towards one of the members. Rick, who had his eyes closed the whole time, was startled when a woman sat on his lap. He chuckled and embraced her as another one came from behind him, running her hand on his chest.

Two others busied themselves with Nick while some other people gravitated towards Storm, who was rolling several joints on the table now. Roger and David locked eyes and threw each other a flirtatious smile. David wanted to ask him to go to another room, so he started to lean towards him. He was cut off, however, by a woman who came right in between them, literally dropping herself onto the couch, then wrapping both her arms around each of the men. “Am I interrupting?” she asked. David desperately wanted to tell her _‘yes’_. However, he resisted. The woman turned towards Roger, running a finger down his nose. “You have quite the profile,” she said, chuckling. “And look at these arms!” David watched as Roger became entranced by her. There was no doubt she had a charm. She had long, dark, curly hair, and she wore a shirt from the band’s tour, although she wrapped it up so that her stomach was exposed. Her legs were long and smooth, and David watched as one of Roger’s hands reached to touch them.

David somewhat aggressively stood up and walked to the other side of the room. Jealously, he realized, was boiling inside of him. How badly he wanted to ask that woman to leave. He took another beer and cracked it open, hiding behind the crowd from the other side of the room to watch Roger. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find a blonde-haired woman looking deep into his eyes. “How are you?” she asked, constantly giggling. “I’m tired,” he answered, clearly uninterested. The girl’s mood faltered. “I’m sorry,” he said, as he took her hand off his shoulder. She seemed upset but it didn’t take long for her to navigate to where Storm was, wrapping herself around the man as he took another drag of a joint.

Then David saw Roger and the woman stand up and slowly disappear from the room. Now he was properly angry, so he set the beer down on the table to follow them. Out in the hall, however, he found that Roger and the woman were just sharing a joint, leaning against the wall. He felt stupid for thinking Roger would do anything with her, but the feeling returned when he watched the woman deeply inhale and then kiss Roger, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. “I like to call that a ‘shotgun’,” she said, laughing. “Interesting,” said Roger. They were cut off when David interrupted them. “Roger, I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency,” he said, grabbing Roger by the shoulder. “Oh boy, someone’s jealous,” laughed the groupie, taking the joint and walking back into the room.

“What the hell, Rog!” said David, in a hushed yell. “Dave, calm down,” said Roger, his eyes slightly squinted and reddened from the activity he just participated in. “You know I wouldn’t do anything,” he said, trying to comfort David by reaching out to hold his hand. David, however, ripped his hand free from Roger's grip. “No, Roger, I saw how you were looking at her,” he said, angrily staring off to the side. “Dave, Dave, Davey,” said Roger, now clearly high. “I would never. We were just sharing a joint,” he said, his lips cracking a smile. “I swear, David, you know I love you,” he said, shakily pointing a finger and then poking David’s nose. David couldn’t help but chuckle. Seeing Roger high was hilarious. “I want you to know that I’m a little hurt,” he said, stepping closer to Roger. “Oh yeah? What if I made it up to you?” he said, his gaze now deep into David’s eyes. “How so?”

The two men burst into the hotel room, eagerly touching each other on every body surface. Roger’s hands wrapped into David’s hair as he left several kisses all along his face. “I’m sorry, Dave,” he said desperately. “Please, forgive me,” “Shit, Roger, you know I love to watch you beg,” he said, chuckling. “Let’s get out of these,” said David, pulling off his own shirt as Roger began working on his belt. He watched Roger struggle for a moment with his belt. “You still stoned, Rog?” he asked, looking to face the man. “Not really,” he answered. “This belt is just difficult,”

Eventually the two of them made it onto the bed, Roger holding himself over David as he left a trail of kisses from his chin to his stomach. “How’s that so far?” he asked, lifting a hand to hold David’s face. “I’m not sure I forgive you just yet,” teased David. “Alright, then, get these off,” he said, pulling on David’s underwear. David obeyed, revealing his erect cock as he threw the cream-colored garment onto the floor. Then Roger took off his and stood over David for a moment, his legs struggling to balance on the mattress. “That’s better,” said David, from a lying position. He looked up and scanned the entirety of Roger’s body. Roger then came back down, spreading David’s legs with his arms carefully. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking up to David, who had his arms behind his head. “Hell yeah,” he said weakly, overwhelmed by lust. Roger lifted his legs and pushed himself into David, causing him to squirm. David’s arms came down to hold Roger’s hair, which dropped over and onto David’s stomach. “Fuck, Rog-” he said, reaching one of his hands to stroke his own cock as Roger’s motions became more smooth.

“You like that?” said Roger, looking down at him now. “Yes, Roger,” he moaned. “Keep going, I want you to come in me,” Roger gladly took the request. “Of course,” he said, leaning down to kiss David’s chest. “As you wish,” Roger’s hands crawled back to grip David’s thighs as he repeatedly pushed himself into David at a faster rate. “Yes!” yelled David, breaking into a laugh. “So good, Rog,” he continued, in a much quieter tone. Roger then began panting, and David could tell he was close. Then one of Roger’s hands came over to David’s crotch and grabbed a hold of his cock, replacing his own hand. “Damn, Rog, look at you go,” he teased, running a hand through Roger’s hair. Then the waves of pleasure hit both men at the same time, Roger’s legs shaking as he came into David while the white stickiness from David covered Roger’s hand. “Oh god,” whispered Roger, lifting himself out and then crawling over to lie next to David. “How was that?” he asked, still painting. “I think I forgive you, Roger,” he said, as they both broke out into laughter.


	16. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s 1971 and the Pink Floyd have more or less moved on from the loss of their previous front man. Well, almost all of Pink Floyd. One member still misses him greatly though, and it’s that time of year when a miracle might just happen...  
> Warning: Mention of mental illness and misdiagnoses/drug use  
> Topics: Sad, no smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It got cold outside and I know it’s only october but the cold made me think of CHRISTMAS because I love CHRISTMAS even though im not christian and this is a really long run on sentence but enjoy my christmas-themed sydger :D

**A Christmas Miracle**

Roger stood outside waiting for his cab. He had been the last to leave the studio that night, since he was determined to finish the last lyrics for the band’s new album. He had been particularly ecstatic about a song he and David were working on called _A Pillow of Winds_ , and for a brief moment he imagined the future of the band. They were already experiencing a great deal of success, yet he knew that there were even greater albums to come. Pondering the band’s albums predictably caused his thoughts to drift to the early days. And with the early days, the thoughts of Syd came. To Roger, Syd was everything. Perhaps one of the very few people he actually admired in his life. His drifting thoughts were then interrupted by the screech of a vehicles’ tires, gripping hard onto the snow-covered road as it came to a stop in front of Roger.

The cab stopped outside a beautiful brick, farm-style house. Roger got out and headed inside, champagne in hand as he gently swept aside his long hair and then knocked at the door. For the few brief moments he was outside, the cold had already started biting at his fingers, so he started bouncing his leg a little to try and stay warm. The door swung open to expose a brightly lit house with many people and a heat of warmth which washed over Roger.

“Rog!” said David, extending his hands upwards.

“Come on in, you look frozen!” he continued, moving from the door frame to let the man in. Roger smiled and handed David the champagne.

“Ah, this is fantastic. Thanks for coming, Roger. The boys are in the living room,” he said, pointing with one hand while the other held the champagne.

“Of course! Thanks for doing this, Dave,” he said.

Roger walked into the busy living room and was met by his band mates Nick and Rick, who promptly stood up at his arrival to give him a hug. Lindy and Juliette, their wives, soon followed suit and the several embraces soon warmed Roger. He then admired the Christmas tree, which was much larger than the average one. It was adorned with lights of every color as well as ornaments David had collected over several vacations. David came into the living room, wielding two glasses of wine. He handed one to Roger, then turned to Rick and Nick.

“To another successful year as the Pink Floyd!” he said, raising the glass. All four of them clinked their glasses lightly and took a sip.

David gave Roger a pat on the shoulder before returning to the guests in the other room, who seemed to get rowdier by the minute. Roger sat down by an armchair near his band mates.

“Came up with a fantastic bass riff for another song in the studio just an hour ago,” he said to Rick, who was gently touching noses with his wife.

“What?” he asked, turning to face Roger.

“I came up with a new riff,” he repeated.

“That’s great,” replied Rick, although he didn’t seem terribly interested.

Rick turned back to face his wife as she started talking and it was then Roger had realized how alone he was. Even at this party, which had filled the house’s capacity with guests, he felt alone. Roger had never been shy to indulge in women. Too many nights after a show did he have a trail of tireless groupies follow him to his room, where he would spend practically all night pleasuring them as well as himself before falling asleep and waking up to another show. It had become a cycle at this point. But what Roger lacked what a stable relationship. The one he should’ve had. He was still young, but a part of him knew he would never be able to get along with anyone else in such a meaningful way because his heart was already attached to someone else’s.

Roger had stopped trying to deny the feelings after Syd had officially left. He remembered how much more devastated he was than his other band mates. He remembered finally coming to terms why. Everyday that Roger woke up and wondered. _What if I had told him? Would things be different? Would Syd be different?_ These thoughts had become an endless loop in Roger’s head, deeply eating away at any sense of peace he achieved. Roger was sitting nearly motionless, only taking sips of his wine until his eyes met the copy of _Piper at the Gates of Dawn_ that lay on the table. The sight of Syd’s face certainly did not help Roger in any way, and he found himself almost angry. _Who left that out here?_

He was so caught up in his gaze that he didn’t notice David walking up behind him.

“You miss him, don’t you?” he said, offering a consoling hand to Roger’s shoulder.

“What?” he said, snapping out of the daze.

“You miss him. You miss Syd,” Roger sighed, defeated. There was no point in hiding his feelings.

“Yeah, I do,” David almost didn’t know what to say next. He thought Roger would’ve tried denying it.

“It’s okay, Rog,” he said, continuing to rub his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I know you miss him, but there’s nothing we can do. At least we know he’s being taken care of,”

David’s statement made both of them uneasy. It was more like they hoped he was taken care of. No one really knew where Syd was these days. They knew that at some point he moved into another flat but exactly how he was doing or who was visiting him was unknown to all of them. They stood there in silence for a moment, before Nick noticed the tension and tried to break it by starting to sing a Christmas carol. Sure enough, the rowdy crowd from the other side did not take long to join in, and soon the whole room became one deafening roar of an off-key version of _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_ as their faces reddened and the room became cheery. Roger stood up next to David and sang along with him, a smile cracking at his lips. Rick made eye contact with Roger and started laughing. For a moment, Roger forgot what had been bothering him as he watched his three closest friends make fools out of themselves with red wine and Christmas carols.

They must’ve spent an hour like that before Roger patted David on the shoulder.

“I’m going to go outside for a smoke,” he said.

“You can smoke in here,” replied David.

“God, but it’s so loud...” he answered, chuckling.

David gave him a nod before returning his gaze to the middle of the room where the carols continued. At some point Rick had gotten onto the upright piano and now everyone had gathered around him as he played whatever chords he could think of to match the songs.

The weather outside had gotten extremely intense. Roger was aware that snowfall was predicted, but this had reached another level. The icy shards of the blizzard cut against his face as soon as he stepped outside, causing him to raise his scarf to cover his face in protection. He made his way to the back of the house, where the shape of the building protected him from the wind. Finally, he was able to light a cigarette despite the ongoing breeze that was still running all around him. He looked out into the distance as saw several other houses as well as a street dimly lit by lamps which had acquired a layer of ice over them.

His cigarette had just burnt out when he caught a glimpse of a silhouette making its way parallel to David’s house. _Who could possibly be going out for a walk right now?_ He looked out and saw that the figure was slightly struggling to make his way through the snow, his feet unsteadily sinking with every step. He wore a long jacket, and the collars were turned up to protect his face. Yet Roger also noticed the man had no hat or gloves. Surely, he must’ve been lost or drunk or both.

“Hey!” he shouted one, without a response.

“Hey, you!” he shouted again, this time the figure turning to face him. Roger could barely see through the darkened weather and thick snowfall but he was able to make out a man with long hair.

“Are you all right, sir?” yelled Roger again, this time, waving his arms in the air a little.

He didn’t get a reply but the figure started to slowly make his way towards Roger. He was a little afraid but nonetheless stood his ground. It was then that the wind had shaken loose a layer of ice from one of the streetlamps, causing a flood of light to come down right where the figure was. Almost instantaneously, his eyes became visible as well as his curly, messy strands of black hair and frostbitten nose.

“Syd?” said Roger, silently at first, unsure if he was seeing things clearly.

“SYD!” he then yelled, running towards the figure, lifting his feet up high with every step to make it over the foot and a half of snow that had accumulated.

The figure did not respond but rather stood motionless in the snow as Roger came towards him. Without even thinking, Roger embraced the man deeply as soon as he reached him, standing there for nearly two minutes, holding his frozen body close to his own as waves of shock poured over him.

“Syd, what the hell?” he said then, turning to face Syd.

He realized then how badly his frostbitten nose was. A layer of frost had even started to grow over his hair. He took Syd’s white hands into his own, desperately trying to warm them up.

“Oh my god,” he said, scanning Syd up and down.

“Let’s get you inside,”

Roger lead Syd all the way into the basement, avoiding the rest of the party-goers as best he could. He realized the last thing he wanted was a bunch of commotion forming over the man. He knew Syd wouldn’t have liked it. He knew he himself wouldn’t have liked it either. Roger sat Syd on the couch and started rummaging the messy room for blankets.

“Oh my, Syd! You could’ve frozen to death. Are you cra-” he stopped the sentence before finishing it.

Roger then turned to face Syd, who had not said a word throughout the whole ordeal. His eyes watered slightly as he watched Syd’s eyes stay focused on him. He was like a little child who couldn’t think for himself and couldn’t even take care of himself. His stare was empty as he looked into Roger’s eyes, simply awaiting to see what he would do next. Roger broke eye contact and finally found a blanket, bringing it to Syd. He reached his arms out and took it.

“Thank you,” he finally said, desperately wrapping the blanket closely to him. Roger then sat himself beside the man.

“Syd- I- I don’t even know what to say,” he said, looking down at the ground.

“What were you doing out there?” he asked, desperately holding back his tears as he looked at the man’s hair, now slightly wet from the melted snow. Syd didn’t answer at first. Roger brought a hand to his frozen shoulder.

“Syd?” he asked, lightly shaking him.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I just wanted to go for a walk,” he finally replied, almost defensively.

It was then Roger realized that it was likely that no one had visited Syd on Christmas Eve. He wondered if Syd even knew it was Christmas.

“I’m cold,” Syd said then, curling up his body tighter.

Roger couldn’t resist. He didn’t care if it was weird and he tried not think about his feeling as he brought himself towards Syd, wrapping nearly his entire body around the shorter man’s trying to warm him. Roger then rested his head on top of Syd’s, and for a moment he felt that sharp spark run through his heart again as it did years ago when he watched his band mate on stage.

“Syd, talk to me,” Roger started, bringing one of his hands to grip Syd’s arm.

“Rog, I haven’t been well,” he started.

Roger did not reply. Perhaps for the first time Syd was freely admitting his problems to Roger. On that cold January night in 1968, Syd had simply left, not a word said as he disappeared from the stage forever, right in the middle of the show. But now he was actually talking.

“I’ve seen so many doctors, Rog. Each of them say a different thing. One’s saying it’s something called multi-personality disorder. Another thinks I’m a schizoid. A third thinks its the acid. And my brother? He thinks I’m fine,” he narrated.

“Roger, I’m lost,” he continued, the vulnerability causing his voice to crack.

“I’m lost,”

Roger finally allowed for a tear to fall down his cheek. He had been waiting for this moment for too long. He knew it wouldn’t have been a happy thing if he reunited with Syd. He had left on such unclear and tragic terms that certainly this talk would have had to happen. But to hear Syd’s voice, his openness, and just feeling his body against his own put Roger at ease from the overwhelming emotions. He hugged Syd closer to himself.

“That’s okay, Syd,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry, too,” A brief moment passed and the two of them sat in silence, Roger holding Syd as the smaller man started coming more to life with the heat. Roger allowed the feelings he had for Syd run through his blood now, realizing that holding Syd this close would've been only a dream years ago.

“Roger?”

“Yes, Syd?”

“Can you kiss me?”

The flood of emotions was back. _What the hell is going on? This man is properly crazy. What am I thinking? Of course, I’ll kiss you, Syd. That’s all I ever wanted to do._ Roger didn’t even pretend to look surprised as he made eye contact with Syd and gently nodded before bringing his face towards Syd’s. The kiss was uncertain, and Roger could feel the cold from Syd’s face press against his own. But this was all he wanted. He couldn’t let go of Syd as they kissed for what felt like an eternity but also as fast as the twinkling of a star. At that moment, everything was perfect, and the last three years had been nothing but a terrible nightmare. Syd brought a still cold hand from the blanket onto Roger’s shoulder. It was then that Roger saw Syd was crying.

“What’s- Syd? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he started.

“Then when I started to drift away, when my head got all... irregular, I thought it was over. I knew for sure that if you didn’t like me before you definitely wouldn’t like me now,” he said, a large tear now rolling down his cheek.

“Syd-” Roger took the man’s hands into his own.

“I’ve always loved you,”

“You love me?”

“Yes, Syd. Always,”

“I love you too, Roger,”

They embraced again, the aloofness from Syd’s mental state as well as a fog of confusion and certainty still heavy in the room. Yet when they touched, it seemed that they could find peace. They were so unaware of the future, so scared of what was next, but they knew just one thing. That from now on, they had each other. And in that moment, as the blizzard's unforgiving wind caused the lights in the room to go out, that was all they needed.


	17. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: Fluffy, Roger brings David flowers, no smut  
> Warning: brief mention of drug/alcohol abuse

**Forgiveness Tastes Sweet**

David took a long sip of the brown beverage in his crystal glass. As much as he hated sulking, he found himself doing it more and more often. He felt his band growing apart further each minute they were in the studio. There were moments where they could pull together, and just for a brief moment someone would smile and an organized melody would come along. But most of the time was spent squabbling and murmuring things under their breaths as each of the members wished they were anywhere else but in the studio. A few times the arguments would rise to more violent events, as the one on that very day had.

_“That guitar is too loud on the track!” “It’s fucking rock music, the guitar is supposed to be loud!” “You can’t even hear my voice, David!” “Yeah? Well maybe no one wants to hear your voice anyways!” “Shut up, Gilmour! You can’t even come up with a new solo without stuffing your nose full of blow and washing it down with something hard! You will never play like Syd!”_

The nasty altercation played in his head over and over again, like a broken record. _“You will never play like Syd!”_ He found himself especially pissed. _If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be playing music right now, Roger. You’d be stuck at some boring 9-5 job bored out of your mind._ He thought Roger should be grateful that he had stepped in to replace the band’s previous problematic frontman.

He took another sip and found that the anger had begun to diminish into sorrow. A simple yet heavy sorrow. He kept remembering what it had been like in the earlier days, when they were all fascinated by the glory of fame and fortune, blinded to such violence with hope shining in their eyes. Another sip lead to guilt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told Roger no one wanted to hear his voice. He knew it wasn’t true. Especially to him. David loved Roger’s voice, and as a matter of fact, he loved all his ideas. On a good night, he would even call them genius. But right now, at that moment, he was trapped between a cycle of anger and guilt and simply couldn’t place one feeling towards Roger. He turned to the TV, which was playing some nature documentary program and stared at it blankly as a lion attacked a giraffe. He wondered then if he was the lion or the giraffe in the eyes of the quieter members, Nick and Rick, who were often left to simply watch the arguments unfold. Were all those useless quarrels his fault?

Finishing his drink, David stood up to place the glass in his crowded sink. He took off his shirt and placed it on a nearby table, then walked to a bathroom to wash his face. Just as he finished drying it, he heard the piercing sound of his doorbell echo through the room. He stared at himself in the mirror before finally turning to answer the door. He was surprised to find Roger there, dressed in his usual black t-shirt and jeans and an unfamiliar look of sorrow and maybe even regret across his face. What was even more surprising was the flamboyant bouquet of flowers he was holding in his hand.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh... yeah, sure,” said David, somewhat hesitantly opening the door further as he sighed.

“These are for you,” said Roger, then handing the flowers to David, who in turn gave a puzzled look.

“I’m trying to apologize,” explained Roger, avoiding eye contact with David as he extended his hand to give him the flowers.

“Um,”

“I’m sorry,”

“Okay... but... flowers?”

“Just take them,” he said, a sudden and familiar hint of aggression rising in his voice. David did not hesitate one more moment as he took them. He could tell Roger was trying, and he wanted to believe it was genuine. What he couldn’t believe was the redness that had begun to form in Roger’s face.

“David, I really am sorry,” David sighed and looked at the flowers.

“These are... nice,” he said, the puzzled look still present in his face.

“Yeah, whatever. It’s a thing people do, right?” Roger said, cracking the slightest smile.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” replied David, chuckling.

They walked into the kitchen where David found a tall glass to set the flowers in. David turned back to Roger about to ask him once more about the flowers when he saw Roger had tears in his eyes.

“Where did this start, David?” he asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the last syllable.

“I don’t know, Rog. I don’t know,”

Roger continued to cry and David watched as a tear made its way from his eye to his lip. Seeing the man who was so notoriously heartless so unshielded and powerless hit a particular pit of sadness in David’s stomach. He could swear he heard a heart string break. He then watched as Roger lifted an arm to wipe the tear from his cheek. _Should I hug him?_ David wondered. As more long seconds passed, David finally felt himself break. He approached Roger and opened his arms, embracing the man genuinely. He brought his face up to the man’s ear, perhaps a little too close.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said.

“Really, Rog. I am,”

Roger then backed away from the hug, his head hung shyly low as his long hair draped over his face to partly hide it. His eyelashes were parted from the crying and his lips looked softer than ever. He stood there for a brief moment.

“David?”

“Yeah, Rog?”

“Kiss me,” he said, plainly.

“Kiss me, please,”

Several confused feelings engulfed David’s head. He chose to ignore them as he abided to the man’s request. The kiss was sloppy, as David was overwhelmed with emotion and Roger’s face was still wet from crying. David could taste the sweetness from the man's tears intermingling with a faint cigarette taste. When it ended, neither said anything. It was then that David saw Roger’s eyes fill with regret.

“I’m sorry, Dave. I- I shouldn’t have done that,”

“No, Roger, stop,”

“I’m sorry, I’m sor-”

“Rog, stop, please!” David then said, grabbing Roger’s hands.

“Roger, that was beautiful,” he admitted, bringing their bodies closer together.

“Really?”

“Yes,”

“But what does it mean?”

“I don’t know,”

Another brief moment of silence.

“It means we don’t hate each other anymore. It means no more of this mess,” David then declared, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” said Roger, wrapping himself around David as then gently kissed again then stood in the kitchen embracing each other as years of unnecessary anger dissipated into the room.


	18. Rick Wright / Nick Mason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Nick confess their love, 1972, fluffy

Requested by @skeets -  
From what Nick remembers, the recording of The Dark Side of the Moon was one of the most peaceful times for the Floyd. They had finally found their way without Syd, and for the first time, Roger and David were actually getting along. So well, in fact, that during that summer one could even call them friends. Among all these blessings however, there was one that Nick treasured more than anything.  
It was June 1972 and the band were in the studio, working on the very first segments of what would soon become the band’s most iconic album. During one lunch break, Nick came back into the room to find Rick seated at his drum set, one hand and drumstick lightly tapping the cymbal rhythmically. He did this for a few measures before he hit the snare. He continued to do this, at specific intervals, creating a simple but catchy beat. The beat, however, didn’t matter. What mattered to Nick was how lovely Rick looked there. Some dim sunlight had come in from the studio’s window and reflected off one of the cymbals right onto his face, illuminating him like the angel that he was. The gentlest yet perhaps the wisest of the Floyd, Rick was undeniably an interesting figure. To Nick, he was also incredibly attractive. He stood there, gazing at his band mate for several minutes before Rick turned around.  
“Oh, gosh,” Rick said, grabbing his chest.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” replied Nick, hastily and concerned.  
“No, it’s quite alright,”  
“What are you working on?”  
“Nothing specific, I was just messing around,”  
“It was pretty cool,”  
“Oh, thanks,”  
Rick shyly brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. His long bangs covered his eyebrows and his beard a large portion of his face, but parts of his wondrous eyes were still visible to Nick. He stared into them deeply, caught up in the moment before he realized what he was doing. Rick chuckled lightly and stood from the throne and walked to his keyboard.  
“I was actually thinking about a song for the album,” he said, playing three notes on the keyboard as he turned it on.  
“What about?”  
“Well, you know how it’s about the pressures of life and whatnot,”  
“Yeah,”  
“Touring always makes me worried about life. You know, we spend so much time in the air and on the freeways, we really are risking our lives quite a bit...”  
Nick was silenced.  
“So, I was thinking of putting this into a song,”  
“That’s... wow, Rick, that’s really interesting,” said Nick, genuinely enthralled.  
“Does ‘Great Gig in the Sky’ as a song name sound stupid?” he asked, smiling and making eye contact with Nick. He thought for a moment as once again he was caught in Rick’s eyes.  
“No, no, not at all. That sounds fantastic, actually,”  
“Ah, thanks,” he replied, humbly facing the ground.  
Moments like these, where Rick was genuinely talking about life were so rare, as he was often quite. Yet it seemed that as much as Roger and David talked, Rick had always said the most. Nick was truly immersed in the concept, just as he was immersed in the person that was Rick.  
Nick sat at the throne and admired Rick as he continued to work out chord progressions on the keyboard. It was then that Roger and David walked in, laughing together.  
“Alright, all set guys?” asked Roger, walking over to pick up his bass.  
The four of them nodded as all their instruments were prepared. David gave a thumbs up to the studio technician to begin recording.  
The day ended shortly after, as they still didn’t have much material. The four of them decided to go out to enjoy an evening at one of the city’s clubs before calling it a night. It was a Friday, after all, and they didn’t have much planned for tomorrow.  
They arrived at the underground-style club, the lights and music already visible on the outside. They showed their ID’s to a scary man outside and then made their way inside, David already moving his shoulders to the music. Although the music was a rather disastifying disco mix, the four of them enjoyed it greatly, each dancing along while trying to make conversation with various people. Nick left to the bar for a drink, and when he came back, he found himself incredibly disappointed. He saw Rick talking to a girl, his hand already placed on the small of her back as he leaned in to whisper something to her, causing them both to chuckle. Nick felt his face go red as he slammed his drink onto a nearby table and headed for a dark hallway. He felt a sweltering of emotions in his stomach as he reached the hall, trying not to cry. He was sure that Rick was into him. How could he not be? All those smiles he gives him. He never laughs at Roger’s and Dave’s jokes the way he laughs at Nick’s. He just couldn’t believe it.  
Just then, as he began to doubt Rick more and more, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the man himself, a concerned smirk spread across his face. Nick was sure that Rick wouldn’t have noticed his reaction earlier.  
“You alright, mate?” he asked, looking into Nick’s eyes.  
“Yeah, I’m sorry, my head kind of hurt,” he lied.  
“Oh,” said Rick. “Sorry about that,”  
He fumbled around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out an Advil.  
“Here,” he offered, the white pill lying on his soft hands.  
Nick saw this as a chance. He followed him here, and the fact that he noticed must have meant something, right?  
He placed his hand into Rick’s extended one, the pill being the only part where their hands weren’t touching.  
“Nick, what are you-” Rick started, but then stopped as he saw Nick’s eyes, heavy lidded. A shy smile spread across his face, causing his perfectly shaped mustache to rise a little.  
Rick turned around to see if they were in anyone’s sight. Then he brought his face to Nick’s, closing the gap that had been building for what seemed like forever. The kiss was shy, and a bit alien, as neither of them ever had another beard pressed against their faces before. The pill was still in between their hands.  
“Nick-” started Rick as they broke apart. “This whole time?”  
“This whole time,” he answered, bringing the man in closer with his other hand for another kiss.  
The music drowned out their soft sounds but to them, the music was gone. To them, it was just two people finally confessing their love, never wanted to break apart as the minutes passed by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably do another one of this pairing. I quite like it.  
> The next one will probably be more intense tho (@skeets)


	19. Rick Wright / Nick Mason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics: fighting in the studio, 1978, the Wall, Greece, Rick's boathouse, smut

The year is 1978. It is, in Pink Floyd’s history, perhaps not one of the best years. Roger has seemingly taken over the band, even though for years the band has settled on the fact that there is no leader. He was determined to turn their electronic sound into a theatrical one with his concept The Wall. Him and David seemingly fought all the time in the studio. “There has to be fucking music in it at some point, Roger!” “It’s the words that count for this album! Don’t you understand what I’m trying to create here! It’s a rock opera!” Things like that became a part of the daily schedule during their practices either in someone’s basement or at the studio. Even worse, one of the members, Rick, had seemingly disappeared from the band. When he did show up, he had practically no new material, and most of the time he just sat there, quieter than he’s ever been.  
Rumors have been floating around that their keyboardist was also using cocaine. The rumors were proven true when one day, Rick had literally done it in one of the rooms of the studios, much to Roger’s dismay. He fired him then and there. The other two wanted to protest, but it seemed David was siding with Roger on the matter, and Nick’s opinion had hardly mattered anyway. Rick packed up his stuff and left for Greece later that day.  
The next day, guilt hovered over the three of them in the studio. In the heat of the moment, their actions had not seen so extreme. But now they realized what they had done, and saw that there were in trouble. Roger introduced them to a new song, seemingly being the most unbothered out of them, and they attempted to play. But about halfway through, Nick stood up and left, still holding his drumsticks as he hailed a cab to take him to the airport.  
Greece was particularly beautiful when Nick had arrived. It was a warm day, and the Greek-styled houses never failed to fascinate Nick as he headed down a street towards. He finally reached the river where he knew Rick had probably retreated to his boat house. It was particularly odd that he did that, yet every time Rick needed space for himself, this was where he always retreated. Cautiously, he made his way onto the boat. There was a section in the middle, surrounded by deck, which was like a small apartment. He knocked on the door then reached for the handle. It was locked. A face peered out from the curtain and then he saw the curtain quickly close again. He knocked once more, realizing Rick was not going to open the door. “Rick!” he then shouted. “C’mon man, it’s just me,”  
The door finally opened. “Yeah?” he said. Nick noticed Rick’s appearance, which was rather unpleasant. His hair had been unwashed and bags formed under his eyes. Had he been crying? Nick also noticed the redness under his nose. He knew he was probably using more cocaine out of emotional needs and that worried him greatly. “Can we talk?”asked Nick.  
The talk wasn’t too long, but it was heavy. Rick admitted he had a problem. With cocaine, with his wife, with Roger and David, and seemingly with everything in his life. Nick had a hard time comforting his bandmate but tried his best, offering a smile every once in a while and even placing a hand on Rick’s shoulder. Rick did eventually break into tears, much to Nick’s dismay. He hardly knew what to do. He just watched as Rick’s already gorgeous eyelashes turned more gorgeous, now glistening with tears. “Rick, why don’t we go out somewhere?” he then said. “Not a crowded place or anything like that. Just for a walk, or something?” Nick continued. Rick looked up at him, hope in his eyes. “I think I need that,” he said.  
They reached the top of a rocky hill, with the view of the ocean right underneath them. The spot they found was incredibly beautiful, straight out of a movie scene. The sky was crystal clear, and the moon lit up the entire ocean. The moon had also lit up Rick’s dark blue eyes, which had seemed much happier by the time they reached the top. “I’m sorry I was being such a burden,” said Rick, panting still. “No, Rick, c’mon,” “I mean, you had to come all the way here-” “Rick, it’s okay. I enjoyed it,” Nick said, patting him on the shoulder. “Really?” asked Rick, his eyes peering from behind his long bangs. Rick’s hair had a way of always staying in perfect shape, even after not showering and then hiking up a hill. Nick couldn’t help but admire it.  
As a matter of fact, everything in that moment was perfect. Nearly too perfect. Both of them were emotionally and physically exhausted, and simply let themselves be taken by the view around them, moving closer to each other without even noticing it. It was then that Nick put his arm around Rick and Rick rested his head on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick?” “Yeah?” “Thank you,” he said, then turning to face Nick. He looked deep into the other’s eyes, which were also incredibly illuminated in the bright moon.  
“Nick, I-” Rick started, stuttering. “I- I think I might... like you?” he said. Nick gave a confused face but he really hoped it meant what he thought it meant. “How so?” he asked, cracking a flirty smile. Rick replied with a hidden smile, shy but showing emotion all at once. A loud wave crashed below them and Nick took Rick’s shirt by the collar and brought him in, kissing him hard on the lips. Rick made a quiet sound at the harshness but soon melted right into Nick, wrapping his arms loosely over Nick’s shoulders. “Wow,” said Rick. “Wow,” replied Nick. Nick then took Rick’s hand and began to lead him down the hill, looking back and laughing countless times during their descent.  
When they reached the boathouse, neither of them held back. Rick slammed the door behind him and Nick was already taking off his jacket, throwing it carelessly over a table. They kissed in the middle of the room again. It was long, passionate, and sloppy. Nick heard Rick moan several times. Their breathing got faster by the minute. Rick lead Nick over to the bed, both of them sitting on it’s edge as they continued to kiss.  
“You sure you want to do this?” asked Nick, breaking the kiss. “Yes,” answered Rick, breathing fast. “And you?” “Of course,” They kissed again and this time Nick’s hands made their way to the top of Rick’s shirt, slowly undoing the first button. Soon both of them were shirtless. Nick pushed Rick gently onto his back, laying the man out in front of him as he kissed his chest. He then placed one hand on Rick’s crotch, still covered by jeans. He moved his hand in even intervals, watching Rick’s face scrunch and his body squirm from the pleasure. It didn't take much time for Rick to get hard. “Let’s get these off,” said Nick, pulling at Rick’s belt. Both of them stood up and unclothed themselves fully. Nick was also hard at this point, something Rick keenly noticed as he eyed the man’s whole body, taking in his unique and highly attractive physique.  
Under the sheets, Nick was holding Rick’s legs apart with his arms, hovering over the man as his hips pushed themselves rhythmically into Rick. Rick exclaimed in pain every once in a while, but mostly, his moans were those of pleasure. “Fuck, Nick,” he said, causing Nick to chuckle. “Enjoying this?” Nick replied, bringing his face closer to Rick’s. “This is fucking insane. No, wait, it’s fucking amazing,” said Rick, kissing Nick and bringing his arms to touch Nick’s back. Rick then pulled his head back, moaning loudly again. “Shit,” he said, his breath faltering for a moment. Then he came, and watching Rick nearly shout at the pleasure called Nick to do the same, right into the keyboardist under him.  
Nick then lied down next to Rick, pulling the covers over both of them as he snuggled closer to Rick. “And?” Nick asked. “Any thoughts?” “Too many,” replied Rick. “But only one that matters,” he said, leaning over to kiss Nick. “I think I love you,”


	20. David Gilmour / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and David go months without contact due to a nasty argument. When they reunite, the bitterness continues, only this time it exposes certain secrets.
> 
> Warnings: Drug/alcohol abuse, Angst, strong language  
> (kinda) BDSM, use of homophobic slur

It had been about three months since Roger had last seen David. Despite the long gap of time, the words of their last argument still stung Roger’s ears. He never thought that David could stoop that low. It seemed, however, that the tension from the past years had simply grew to be too much. So David  _ had _ to bring up his father. David just  _ had  _ to rub in how no one wanted to hear about the war anymore. 

At the moment, it shut Roger up, and perhaps David even felt pride for finally silencing Roger for good. But now, David felt guilt. It ate inside him deeper and deeper every day, and it lead him to divorce his wife and pick up a bad drinking habit. It seemed that his daily schedule had been reduced to moping around his room, which was affordable due to his previous success. But that really didn’t matter, because although he was financially comfortable, he was further than ever from stability. 

At the other end of town, Roger had taken up a similar lifestyle. He sat in his room, feasting on the bitterness filling his heart as he thought about how he would never forgive David. Much like the other, he had turned to substance during this time, only his choice was one that is much worse. Despite how far apart they had grown, both Roger and David were living a hauntingly similar and depressing life. 

It was on a cold February evening that David had decided it was time for a change. He showered and shaved off the long beard that had covered his chin since the argument. Next he combed his long hair, ridding the knots that had stubbornly formed in the golden-brown locks. Having chosen a neat shirt and jeans, he headed out of the house, and although fear coursed through his veins, a small glimpse of hope managed to work it’s way into his heart, warming him against the weather. 

Three hard knocks echoed through Roger’s living room, startling him from his position on the floor. He quickly jerked upwards and proceeded to hide the needle and box underneath a nearby couch before making his way to the door. He rubbed his eyes and tried to calm his shaking hands as he pulled aside the curtain to face the knock’s source. 

There he saw David’s face, which wore a sad expression. His shining hair and clean face much contradicted his expression, and Roger felt a slight hint of anger and maybe jealousy as he saw his healthy appearance. He had hoped that perhaps all the moping would take a toll on his look, which might’ve been an almost satisfying punishment. 

He pulled the curtain back and walked to the center of his room pacing.  _ Don’t open it. Don’t you dare. He meant what he said. He doesn’t care.  _ A million paranoid and angry thoughts raced through the man’s mind, fueled even further with the stuff in his veins. The knocks came again.

Roger felt his legs stiffen as he continued to stand motionless in the room. His eyes darted towards the area under the couch. He imagined himself taking the box and retreating to a different room where he could drown out the knocks until they stopped. He began reaching for the couch to fulfill his plan until another set of violent knocks rang through his ears. 

“Roger! If you’re in there, please, just let me talk,”

Roger walked up to the door, slowly and cautiously, once again peering through the curtain. The sight of his face angered him once again.

“Fuck off!”

There was a brief moment of silence and Roger thought he had left. But another peek out the window showed that David had simply decided to sit down on the steps outside the door.  _ Stubborn bastard. Just go home.  _ Out of anger and perhaps a weakness which had grown from months of substance abuse, Roger sat down, his back against the door. He brought his hands to his face and felt that it was wet.

_ I’m crying? Jesus, what’s wrong with me? _ He had then begun remembering the good moments with David. There were so many that he had forgotten about that seemed to all come back right at that moment. It was certainly strange that he was crying before he remembered them, as if his subconscious was a few steps ahead of him. Eventually he decided to just give up fighting the tears, and allowed the stream out of his eyes and nose to continue, furthering the mess that his face had become in the past months.

Finally, Roger stood up and wiped his face.  _ Can’t show weakness. _ He slowly began undoing the locks on his door, cautiously pulling it open. Just when he was ready to face the man, he found the step empty. His breath faltered as he felt more tears coming. Then, almost as if in a trance, he walked over to the step where David had been sitting and placed his hand on the cement, feeling the weak warmth that was the only evidence to David’s visit. He waited there a moment, his face in one hand, before standing up to lock himself indoors once again.

There were a lot of feelings, amongst other things, that boiled in Roger’s blood that night. He was lying on his usual patch of hardwood floor, his hand buried into his head, trying to process and give reason for every feeling. He felt regret for not opening the door soon enough. Regret for not communicating with him. Stupid for holding such a grudge. Jealousy at David’s appearance. Jealous for more reasons than just his healthy looks...

Quickly, Roger sat up to try and shake the last thought from his head. It was a somewhat familiar, although often misleading feeling. It was that feeling he got for his first wife back in 1969. A feeling he would occasionally get towards any girl with decent charm and looks. But it burned even harder than before.  _ Maybe because of how you hurt him. No! This is all because of the drugs, Roger, get over it.  _ Yes, explaining it as a simple drug-related delusion or something like that made perfect sense. Those were the last thoughts he had before drifting into a deep, highly uncomfortable slumber right on the floor. 

The next morning was a hard one for Roger. His back ached severely as he raised himself from the floor. Worse, he felt a cold wetness right over his crotch.  _ Shit.  _ At first he thought he peed himself, but after changing, he realized it had been a harmless wet dream.  _ Are you kidding me? Am I a fucking teenager or something? I should really take it easier with that shit...  _ Once again, the drugs seemed like a good explanation. 

After taking a sip of his bitter coffee, he began to remember his thoughts from last night. It occurred to him then that perhaps the David situation and the morning mess were correlated but once again, he desperately ignored the fantasy as it grew ever larger in his head. 

His haze was knocked back to reality when a couple knocks came through the room. Roger tried to remember if his dealer was coming by today or tomorrow. It couldn’t possibly be David, right? A visit to the door proved his assumption wrong. There David was, looking perhaps a little less stellar than yesterday. Today, however, that did not bring Roger joy. Instead he felt guilt for what he said yesterday. 

_ Fuck, _ he thought to himself as his hand reached for the handle, pulling the door open. 

“Roger!” David said, perhaps a bit too excited.

“David,”

A moment of silence elapsed as they both stared off to the sides, desperate to look at anything but the other’s eyes.

“Look, I-” David started, although it was then he realized he had no idea what to say to Roger. He had something planned, but it escaped him and was replaced instead by a slight quiver in his lips and a wetness forming in his eyes.

“Oh, Jesus, David,” said Roger, giving him a disgusted face, although he really shouldn’t be one to judge. After another silent moment and a change of face, Roger finally continued. 

“Come in,” 

David came inside, wiping his face against his jacket. 

“I’m sorry about that, Rog. Roger,” 

Hearing David correct ‘Rog’ to ‘Roger’ was ridiculously heartbreaking, and Roger couldn’t believe how stupid his heart was for picking up on that. 

“No wait,” David continued. He then turned to Roger.

“That was an apology for being a mess. But I need to apologize for far more than that,”

He took a deep breath and locked eyes with the tall bassist.

“Roger, I am really, truly sorry. For everything. From the first day to the last,” 

For a moment, both men held their breaths. Then Roger nodded, taking in the words as his eyes wandered about the floor. 

“That’s quite a lot David,”

David looked at him, the eagerness for a further reply eating away at him every second.

“But, I am not innocent here either,” Roger looked back up to David.

“I am also sorry, David. You saved the band and I never even gave you credit for that. No, instead, my stupid power complex had taken over and I thought I needed to- to prove something, I don’t even know what...” 

Yet another silence passed. It was broken when both of them moved closer, embracing each other tightly as silent tears streamed down both their faces. 

“I’m sorry,” whiserped Roger. 

“Me too,” replied David.

The hug lasted for another minute or two, before finally they each took a deep breath and broke apart. Emotions raced strongly around the room as they made their way to the couch, Roger offering David a cup of tea. It was then that David found the little box under the couch.

“Rog-” he started, his voice solemn as he held the box in his hand, looking at the man who had just entered the room.

“Hey!” Roger replied, angrily racing to take it back.

David stood up, childishly dashing around the room to keep the box out of the man’s reach. Eventually, however, Roger cornered him, using both his hands to grab ahold of David’s and tugging for the substance he was now desperate for. David then used his free hand to literally push Roger’s face. He saw the anger grow in the man as he bounced back, this time more aggressively fighting him. Just then, the box fell to the floor, sending the glass from the syringe scattered on the floor, along with the brownish powder. 

Both of them were breathing hard, and Roger’s hands still pinned David against the wall. For a second, the anger had boiled to a point where David thought Roger would have hit him, so he closed his eyes. What he felt instead were Roger’s lips against his own. His immediate reaction was to pull back, but the wall pressed against his head made him realize there was nowhere to go. Then, as the seconds creeped by slower than every, he began to think about how this made perfect sense. This was the real reason that there were any problems in the first place. He  _ really _ liked this. 

Roger’s face was hard against his, and the stubble around his face unsettling. But it made sense. That was all that mattered in that moment as David pressed his face back into Roger’s, even daring to slip his tongue into the other’s mouth. Roger took his hands from David’s arms to wrap them around David’s waist, not hesitating. The kissing continued, and with every second, it became more and more fiery. Then Roger stepped back, causing David’s face to slightly lean out as he tried to keep the kiss. 

Roger breathed hard and began taking off his shirt, his eyes locked with David’s and filled with lust. 

“Oh, so you’re a full faggot?” asked David, chuckling.

“Shut up, you want it to,” 

David couldn’t deny it. But some part of him wanted to retaliate. 

“Hardly,” he said, smugly crossing his arms. 

“Shut the hell up and take off your pants,”

David was shocked at Roger’s harsh demand, but it turned him on further. He quickly undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor with a clack.

Roger was quick to bring his hand to David’s crotch, which was still covered by underwear. He came in for another harsh kiss as he pressed the man back against the wall and waited for a hardness to form. Then he pulled out David’s erect cock from the side of his underwear, stroking it. 

“Shit, Rog,” 

Then David let out a moan and Roger realized he might be close. His hand moved from David’s area and he backed away.

“Why’d you stop?” he said, panting as his eyes met Roger’s.

“You don’t come until I say so,” 

“Oh, I see. Ever the controlling little shit, Roger?”

Roger let out an angry huff before grabbing David by the shoulder and pushing him towards the middle of the room. 

“Upstairs. Now,” 

David did as commanded. He wanted to hesitate, but once again, he had to admit this was probably the most aroused he’s ever been. Whatever Roger was playing at, it was working. 

They made it to Roger’s bedroom, scanning the room for a moment before Roger began taking off his own pants. He carelessly threw them to the floor before looking back up to David. 

“On the bed now,” he said, forcefully pushing David so he collapsed onto the soft surface. David turned back to face Roger, biting his lower lip as he admired the man’s physique. It had grown thinner, it seemed, from the past few months, although the unmistakable strong, broad shoulders and thin waist were still there. 

“What are you looking at, faggot?” Roger asked aggressively. 

“Oh, please, no use calling  _ me _ that,”

Roger broke character for a moment as he chuckled then brought himself onto the bed. He reached a hand out for David’s neck. 

“Think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he whispered. David’s breath was only partly affected by the grip, but it sent waves of adrenaline through his system. 

Roger then took ahold of David’s hands, bringing them in towards his crotch. 

“Touch me,” he said, lust pouring out of his voice.

“As you wish,” replied David, mockingly. 

David watched Roger’s eyes close at his movements, feeling a slight sense of power for the first time during the experience. After a couple of minutes, Roger pulled David’s arm from his crotch then pushed him to lie back on the mattress. 

“I want to fuck you,” he said, blantantly. 

“Is that okay?” 

David chuckeld.  _ Roger, asking for permission? _ How unusual.

“Yes, of course,” he answered, cracking a smile. 

In reply, Roger made a cunning smile. He stood up and walked over to his drawer, where he pulled out a lubricant. David eyed him as he spread the fluid over his erect cock, slowly but evenly. Then he jumped back onto the bed. 

“You better not shout,” said Roger.

David didn’t know how to reply to that. Seeing Roger’s size and having never experienced this, he was a little afraid. He knew it would certainly be, to some degree, painful.

Roger sharply pulled David’s legs apart, holding them down with his hands. He pressed kisses on David’s stomach and then came down to his cock, which he began to stroke with his hand. Pleasure, pleasure, and then, pain, as he felt Roger go in. 

It only lasted a moment, however. He did squeal, but evidently it was not loud enough for Roger to be bothered. Then the waves of pleasure came back and he felt almost numb after a few minutes. Roger continued pumping as he brought his head down, face first into the sheets next to David. All David could see was the man’s hair, which had partly made its way onto David’s face.

“Damn, Rog,” said David, in a whisper. 

Roger’s hands still moved around David’s cock, sending and electric feeling through his body endlessly. 

“Oh, Davey, I’m gonna come,” came Roger’s voice, in a tone that was much softer than previously. 

“Oh yeah?” teased David.

“Yes, yes, can I do it inside you?” 

“Yes,”

Shortly after, Roger’s hips buckled and then shook as he came into David. He moaned loudly and David heard him saying his name a few more times before he was finished. It was incredibly arousing. 

David came shortly after. His breath was cut short as the fluid sprinkled over his stomach, and partly onto’s Roger’s. 

Roger continued to lay on top of David after, his body moving up and down with each hard breath. It was then that David could’ve sworn he felt something wet on his shoulder. 

“Rog?”

Roger turned to him with light tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, jeez, you alright?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, wiping his face.

“This, um... this always happens when I...”

David nodded understandingly even though he wanted to laugh.

“It’s embarrassing,” said Roger, huddling himself closer together.

“No, Rog, c’mon. It’s okay,” said David, genuinely. He brought a hand up to Roger’s face, and caressed it caringly. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” started Roger, now cuddled up against David. “About any of this,”

“Rog, I’m not exactly eager to broadcast to the world that I’ve just had sex with a man,”

“I know, but not the band, either,”

“Of course,”

Roger than took a deep breath.

“What the hell did we just do, David?”

“I don’t know, Rog. But it felt fucking amazing,” he replied, causing them both to giggle as he snuggled his face into Roger’s hair. 

  
  
  
  
  



	21. Syd Barrett / Roger Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU of young Syd and Rog in college, time period is 2019. I used American college names because I was too lazy to research colleges in the UK. Also, it’s a pretty long read, I got kind of carried away. Imagine Syd as he looked in 1968 and Rog in 1972 (even though they are college age). Warnings: Fluff and smut, drug mention/use

**New Beginnings**

Move-in day was stressful. Syd had just spent the past five hours in a car and now had to carry all his belongings up several floors. He sighed as he arrived, waiting in a line of cars to find a spot in the parking lot. Just as Syd saw a spot open up, a red car swerved in front of him and stole the spot. “Hey!” he shouted, honking his horn. The person entirely ignored him as he saw the car’s brake lights go out and go into park. Syd grunted and continued to search for another spot.

Forty minutes later he was carrying the last of his belongings, a guitar and amp, up the staircase. A thick layer of sweat had formed under his long curls. He had to take a break and set his guitar down as he took a deep breath and wiped his forehead. A few minutes later he finally made it to his room, lying down instantly on the uncovered mattress. 

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. The door opened and standing there was a man who he presumed to be his roommate. 

“Syd?” the young man asked. 

“Yeah! Hello, David,” replied Syd, getting up from the bed to shake the man’s hand. 

David had long hair and large blue eyes. Syd was surprised to see he was holding a guitar.

“Hey, I play too!” he said excitedly, pointing to the guitar propped against his desk.

“That’s fantastic! We can jam, like, every day!” replied David.

Both of them laughed. Syd started setting up his side of the room as David continued lugging his belongings into the room. 

Later in the evening, the freshman students were to meet for a welcoming assembly in one of the auditoriums. Syd found a place to sit towards the back of the room, somewhat displeased that the event was occurring in the first place. All he wanted at that time was to sleep. He crossed his arms as he tried to make himself more comfortable in the fold-out chair. 

The room then went dark and then the president’s voice came onto the loudspeaker. A light turned to shine on him and a screen in the center of the room showed live footage of him speaking, so the students further away from the stage could see him. Syd felt excited, although ten minutes into the speech, his excitement quickly turned to boredom. 

Next, there were safety presentations. After the fire and health ones came a drug and alcohol one. Syd could see the mood of the crowd change. Previously, it was quiet. But now, students were chuckling left and right as the speaker talked about the dangers of marijuana. 

_ “About 33% of college students have admitted to trying pot,”  _ her voice said. 

“Liars!” came a voice from the crowd.

The circle of people around the voice’s origin began laughing.

“Only 33?” asked another voice, causing another wave of laughter. 

Syd then found the source of the voice. It was a tall kid with long hair with bangs and a prominent nose. He was laughing to another kid next to him with hair that was dyed blue. A girl behind him was laughing especially loud, probably in a flirtatious manner. Syd felt a chuckle come from his own lips as he continued to read the statistics. He was surprised to hear the lady say that marijuana was addictive, which was clearly some kind of scare tactic as it was not true. 

The presentation finally ended at around 8:30. Syd made his way back to Ellis Hall, sighing as he remembered the six flights of stairs he was bound to take. He knew the elevators were bound to be crowded and he decided to tire his legs rather than his patience. 

Just as he reached his hall he saw the tall silhouette of a familiar figure at the other end, reaching a key into his door. It was the kid from the presentation!

Syd walked almost too excitedly towards the figure.

“Yo!” he said, approaching the kid.

The figure made a slightly confused face as Syd introduced himself. 

“I just wanted to say that you were mad funny at the presentation,” he said, chuckling. 

The kid’s stern face softened. 

“Ha! Just thought I’d lighten the boredown, he said, pushing aside a strand of hair from his face.

“Do you smoke?” he then asked, now opening his door completely. 

“Hell yeah,” replied Syd. 

The kid introduced himself as Roger and then invited Syd into his room. 

“It’s still not set up, don’t mind the boxes,” said Roger, pushing aside a large pile of clothes. 

“It’s not like my room is any different,” he replied. Then he noticed the bass guitar.

“Wow, does everyone here play an instrument?” he asked, pointing to the bass.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I play guitar, and so does my roomate, apparently,” 

“Oh sick. Looks like a band about to form,” he said as he spread himself across his bed.

They continued talking about majors for a few minutes before the door opened. 

“Hey,” said Roger, facing the young man who had just entered.

“Syd, this is my roommate, Storm. Storm, this is Syd. He lives down the hall,” he said, introducing them. They greeted each other and talked for a few more minutes about the presentations before Syd interjected. 

“I should be going to sleep,” he said, yawning. 

“Alright. Hey, do you have Snap?” asked Roger.

“Yeah,” replied Syd, pulling out his phone. They exchanged contacts before Syd left and finally got his long-awaited slumber. 

The next few days were quite the drag. The freshman had to undergo several days of orientation, most of which involved touring the buildings, doing ‘icebreakers’ which were terribly annoying, and going over even more safety precautions. The only upside was that Syd, Roger, and David had started playing music together. They jammed almost every night until the resident advisor knocked on the door and reminded them that it was quiet hours. It became somewhat of an inside joke on the floor, much to the advisor’s displeasure.

Friday night rolled around and Syd was just ending his first history class when his phone pinged. It was a Snapchat from Roger. He opened it eagerly.

_ Yo. Me and Storm are going on a road trip to Champlain College Sat night. U wanna come with? _

A road trip on the first week? Syd thought maybe he’d rather spend the first week at the school, maybe even find a party to meet his new classmates. A second message then arrived. 

_ Meeting with some friends there, gonna get smoked up :) _

He chuckled to himself. He supposed a little adventure couldn’t hurt. He saw Roger’s Bitmoji pop up on the screen, the avatar showing an artificial smile. He replied to the message.

_ Hell yeah. Sounds like fun! _

He spent Friday night with Roger, David, Storm, and a few others in someone else’s dorm. There was some kid named Keith who played drums and some other kid, also named Roger, who was singing. It was pretty fun, and although they originally planned to jam coherently, the night ended with them all dicking around on the instruments, each other them trying to find the weirdest possible noise they could generate. It wasn’t until two in the morning that they each returned to their rooms to sleep. Out in the hall, Syd saw Roger one last time before heading to sleep. 

“Don’t forget about tomorrow!” he said to Syd, showing a slight smile. 

“Of course,” replied Syd, returning the smile. 

Syd awoke rather late the next day, checking his phone frantically to open a Snapchat from Roger. He worried that maybe he had woken up too late. He read the message.

_ Storm bailed. You still want to go? It’ll be just us but it will still be fun.  _

He thought for a moment. Hanging out with just Roger actually sounded ideal. He eagerly replied.

_ Yeah, let’s do it! _

He showered and got ready, throwing on some jeans with a green sweater. Then he packed some overnight belongings into his backpack before meeting with Roger in the building’s lounge. 

“Hey,” said Roger, approaching him. He was wearing a simple blue t-shirt with sweatpants, an outfit that was rather plain but managed to bring out his physique well.

“So, I don’t actually know where we’ll sleep, but I said to pack a bag cause we probably shouldn’t drive high,” Roger then said.

“That’s probably wise,” replied Syd.

“We can probably crash on his floor,” he said, referring to his friend. 

“Oh, their names are Rick and Nick, by the way. We went to high school together,” he continued.

Syd nodded and they began making their way to the parking lot, where they approached an old, red hatchback that belonged to Roger. 

“Yo, I know it looks a little ratty, but the speakers are fantastic,” he said, opening the door. 

Syd chuckled, making himself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Roger plugged his phone into the aux. 

“You like rap?” he asked, scrolling through an extensive playlist. 

“Sure, although I don’t know much,” said Syd. He wasn’t lying, as he tended to listen to a little bit of everything. 

“Well, you’re about to like it even more,” said Roger, choosing a song. 

_ Lean Wit Me _ by Juice WRLD came on. Syd listened attentively while gently nodding his head. Roger, meanwhile, was singing every lyric. Then he reached into his pocket and took out cigarettes. 

“You want one?” he said, offering Syd the package. 

Syd nodded and took one. He rarely smoked, but when the opportunity arose, he never declined. He took a long drag and felt a buzz in his head, and then realized how much he liked the song. 

The drive was an hour and a half. Together they went through six cigarettes and many songs. Syd wrote the names of the few of them on his notepad on his phone to add to a playlist. Roger was right, he really did know good songs. 

They finally arrived and Roger found a spot in a parking lot that was somewhat hidden, underneath a massive pine tree. He snapchatted Rick and waited for his friend to meet them in the parking lot. A few minutes later, a figure appeared at the other end of the parking lot. He was wearing black, ripped jeans and a dark hoodie with a small, red rose in the corner. He had long hair that was styled in a somewhat outdated way, and even a little bit of a beard. He seemed like a cool dude. Roger got up and hugged his friend, not trying to hide his excitement at all.

“How’s that college life treating you, dude?” he asked Rick, after the hug ended.

“Not bad, how about you?”

The small talk continued for a moment before Roger introduced Syd and then they started making their way to his friend’s dorm. 

The room was incredibly messy, and Syd was surprised to see four joints already rolled lying out in the open on the desk. There was still some residue from the bud that wasn’t cleaned. Syd would never have the courage to do that in his own room, as he was sure the smell would be too obvious. He then met Nick, who was playing some video game on a very colorful computer. He wore a white tank top and black sweats. 

After a few minutes, the four of them made their way outside the dorm to a picnic table. It was underneath a tree and out of view to any of the campus security cameras. It was ‘the perfect smoke spot’ according to Rick. Outside, it was dead silent and empty. It was then that Syd realized it was already one in the morning. He was taken out of his haze by Roger who slipped a joint in between his fingers. 

“That’s good shit,” Roger said. 

They continued passing the joints until they made it through all four. At the beginning, they were talking so much but now everyone was huddled together, silently lost in their own thoughts while trying to keep warm in the sudden drop of temperature outside. Another twenty minutes and they finally got up to leave. 

When they got back into the dorm, the four of them ended up staring at the ground for a while. 

“Uh, we don't really have any extra sleeping things...” started Nick. Roger thought he probably should’ve planned this better.

“Maybe try the lounge?” said Rick, pointing them in the direction. 

Syd and Roger arrived at the lounge, but it was surprisingly crowded with a loud group of people who were probably drunk trying to play some board game. 

“We can just go to my car,” said Roger, shrugging. Syd agreed and they carried their things back. At this point, things were getting harder and harder to understand, but by some miracle, they had found the small hatchback and got comfortable inside it. It was rather frigid, however, so Roger pulled out a spare towel and blanket he had at the back of the car. He threw the towel over himself but then draped it over Syd as well. Syd thought it was a little unusual, but at the same time, he was shivering and was grateful that Roger had done that. Then Roger did the same with the thin blanket, giving them both two extra layers on top of the jackets they had on. 

Another thirty minutes passed and Syd felt his head was incredibly heavy. He kept swirling into weird visions of his daily life, almost like dreams, except that he was awake. 

“Are you getting the swirls?” asked Roger, extending a finger into thin air. 

“I kind of feel like I’m on a roller coaster,” said Syd. 

“Yeah, same!” said Roger, laughing. 

Syd couldn’t help but notice that his toes and most of his legs were still frozen, however. He tried to ignore it but it kept getting worse. Luckily Roger said something first. 

“Syd, are you still cold?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,”

A silent moment passed but then Syd felt Roger’s arm extend over his own chest and saw that the man had pulled himself right next to Syd. He wondered how the tall man had managed to do that, given that there was an armrest between the seats and how his long legs hardly fit in the car in the first place. But then he stopped wondering and just accepted it. The feeling of Roger’s warmth was so nice, he didn’t care how weird it looked at the moment. 

They were so close together that Syd could’ve sworn he felt Roger’s ribs through the many layers of clothing he had one. He could feel the man’s breath, which still reeked of weed. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and saw that Roger was looking back at him. It was hard to tell, since there was hardly any light, but he knew that something was different about the man’s gaze.

Roger chuckled, and then Syd did so in return. 

“This is quite the experience,” said Syd, still laughing. 

“Yep,” replied to Roger, and then their laughter slowly died. Roger reached a hand over Syd’s forehead and pushed aside a curl. 

“Syd-” he started, although he continued with stuttering and was hardly able to get a sentence out. Finally, however, he managed. 

“Syd, could I... kiss you?” he asked. Syd felt his heart plummet all the way down his chest. He also felt a warmth suddenly rise to his face. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. In a shocked frenzy, he replied. 

“Yes,” 

Their lips met and Syd couldn’t tell if he wanted it at first. But then it all started making sense. Roger’s large lips were incredibly comforting and Syd loved them. He even reached a hand from the blanketed mess to caress Roger’s face. 

When the kiss finally broke, there was a long moment of silence before Roger interjected.

“I was wondering if you were like this,” he started.

“Like what?” asked Syd. 

“Well... gay,”

“Oh,” 

Syd looked down for a moment. 

“I didn’t think I was,” he started. He felt something almost like guilt tugging at his heart. It was unusual, he had never experienced such a mixture of good and bad feelings at once. 

“Oh, well... that’s okay,” said Roger, reaching his hand for Syd’s hair once again. 

“The thing is, I really like you, Syd,” he said, his typically extroverted self now showing a shy side as he admitted his feelings. 

Syd thought for a moment. He really couldn’t tell that this was what Roger was feeling. In the past week he just seemed like another friend. He acknowledged that the young man was really good at hiding his feelings. Then, finally he replied. 

“I think I like you too,” he said, giggling as he snuggled his face into Roger’s neck. 

Roger reached and hand around Syd’s back and held him tighter. Finally, the cold had stopped bothering them and although the car was tight, they had never felt more comfortable. 

When they arose the next morning, a strong scent of weed was still present in the car. 

“Shit,” mumbled Roger as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He then made eye contact with Syd and they both chuckled, although there was an obvious tension between them. Roger opened the windows and played  _ New Phone, Who Dis? _ by the Flatbush Zombies as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

“We gotta open the windows,” said Syd. It was probably the first thing he said that day. 

“Yeah, dude. I can’t believe it reeks so bad in here,”

“I think it’s just coming off us,”

Another moment of silence. 

“So,” started Syd, finally.

“So,” replied Roger.

“Yesterday was... interesting,”

“Syd, are you actually gay?” Roger then interjected, steering the conversation that was once slow into a much faster direction.

“Well...”

“It’s okay if you don’t know. It’s just, I can’t, I mean, I don’t want to waste time and effort if you don’t like me back. You understand?”

Syd was surprised at how adamant and to the point Roger was. He had only known him for a week and a conversation this serious was not something he was expecting. He did not, however, consider it a bad thing. 

Syd reached his hand to hold Roger’s right hand, which was on the arm rest. He could see Roger crack a gentle smile.

“I hope this answers your question,” said Syd, in a flirtatious manner.

Roger turned to look at Syd.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” Syd yelled in response, causing them both to laugh. He continued holding his hand even as he drifted off into another slumber. They had only slept four hours the night before and Syd had certainly still felt tired. 

Roger put the car in park before turning to Syd, who was still asleep. For a moment he considered not waking him up, for he looked so peaceful and simply adorable from where he was. Roger lifted Syd’s hand and kissed the top of hit. 

“Wake up, dear,” he said, now watching as Syd’s face came to life.

“We’re here already?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Yep,” 

They gathered their belongings and each of them took a breath mint from the car just in case they passed any authorities on the way inside. 

They reached their hallways and Roger reached a hand to hold Syd’s.

“Come to my room,” he said, locking eyes with Syd.

Syd followed him excitedly. Roger opened the door and checked to see if Storm was there. Luckily, he wasn’t.

He pulled Syd inside and closed to door. Then he reached his hands around Syd’s waist and pulled him in for another kiss. It was long and passionate. Syd could tell Roger was experienced, and in some way, he felt a little bad since he himself didn’t really have that same skill. They gravitated towards the bed, where they sat at the edge. Syd brought one hand to Roger’s face and caressed his hair as they continued kissing. Then he felt a hand on his thigh, firm but also gentle, running along the inner side. Syd felt a familiar tingly sensation below his stomach and with that, a hint of fear. But he was relaxed when he opened his eyes and saw Roger’s face. It was unconventionally beautiful, with it’s high cheekbones, large nose and small forehead. His eyes were blue although the color was hard to find behind his messy bangs and low-hanging eyelids. Syd couldn’t help but love every bit of that face. 

Roger’s hand advanced further down Syd’s leg, now reaching the private area. Syd’s breath faltered although he was no longer nervous. He was eagerly awaiting what Roger would do next.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Roger asked, backing his hand away for a second. 

“Yes, please do,” replied Syd, with his eyes closed. 

Roger placed a hand over the man’s crotch, rubbing it slowly as he felt the hardness forming through the jeans. He chuckled as he saw Syd’s reaction.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, seductively. 

“Amazing,” Syd replied, one hand now reaching for Roger’s chest. 

A minute passed and Syd continued to feel every crevice of Roger’s chest and waist, taking in the shapes with his finger tips. 

“Rog?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go further?” he asked, shakily. 

“Hell yes,” replied Roger, almost too excited. They stood up and both began undoing their pants, occasionally looking up to each other and smirking. When they were left with just their underwear, Roger lightly guided Syd to lie flat onto his bed. He raised himself over the shorter man, planting kisses on Syd’s bare chest and neck. A mark was left directly under his chin and he saw Syd lightly wince at the pain. 

Syd raised his hand towards Roger’s crotch, feeling his cock through the light cloth as he rubbed it. Roger moaned lightly and closed his eyes. 

Moments later, Roger brought his head over Syd’s crotch. He pulled down the undergarment just enough to expose his length. 

“Wow,” he said, chuckling. 

“What?” asked Syd, concerned. 

“Nothing, I mean, you’re just huge,” he said. 

“Yeah, well, based on what I was feeling, so are you,” he replied as both of them broke into laughter. 

Roger then brought his mouth over Syd’s cock, sucking while holding the appendage upright with a few fingers. Syd’s hands grabbed the sheets firmly and his hips jerked. 

“Oh god,” Roger heard the man say. 

Syd was certainly not expecting the morning to go this way, but now he wouldn’t have wanted any other outcome. Roger’s mouth felt amazing and he couldn’t help but admit that to himself. 

He felt himself get close, but then Roger stopped. 

Syd gave him a questioning look as he saw the man sit up at the edge of the bed. 

“Syd?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever done this before?”

“You mean... sex?”

“I mean with a man,”

“Um, no,” he replied.

Roger then came closer to Syd, who was spread out among the sheets, exposed and looking beautiful as ever. 

“Can I... go inside you?” Roger then asked, his wording a little awkward. 

Syd looked around for a moment. 

“Yes,” he replied, giving Roger a smile. He then watched as Roger walked over to a drawer. 

“Just getting something,” Roger said as he pulled out a condom. He tore the packing and tossed it onto the ground while wrapping the material around his cock, which he had now taken out from his underwear. 

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, now returning to his position over Syd. Syd smiled but he felt the same hint of fear he had before. He wrapped his arms around Roger’s back as he felt the man’s pelvis touch his own. He spread his legs across the soft sheets, breathing cautiously. Then he felt a pain as Roger entered him, although the lubrication on the condom made it slightly more comfortable. After a few movements, he felt at ease. 

“Is that okay?” asked Roger. Syd felt so much more comfortable every time Roger had asked him. Certainly this experience was unique and alien but Roger had managed to make it a lot easier. 

“Yes, excellent,” he replied as he suddenly felt a wave of pleasure come over him. A few more pumps and he saw Roger’s face squirm. Syd reached one of his hands to his own cock, stroking it at Roger’s rate. Then they both began accelerating gradually until he heard a sharp noise from Roger’s mouth. 

At nearly the same time Syd felt the immense heaviness of an orgasm run through his blood. He let out a soft moan right into Roger’s ear as he felt his stomach get wet. 

Roger then dropped onto the bed right next to Syd, wrapping his arms around the man. 

“That was amazing,” said Syd, still breathing hard. 

“I agree,” said Roger, now bringing some bed sheets over them. 

“Roger?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my... boyfriend?” asked Syd, shyly. 

Roger’s face grew bright.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said. Then he kissed Syd’s forehead as he snuggled closer to the man, the sunlight now peering through the window. 


End file.
